


Predestination

by elfenphoenix



Series: Predestination [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Previous life AU, klance, origins of Voltron, the destruction of Altea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:59:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 64,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfenphoenix/pseuds/elfenphoenix
Summary: Ten thousand years ago the Blue Paladin was Altean, and the Red Paladin was Galra.Ten thousand years ago, in peacetime, the Red and Blue Paladins fell in love.Ten thousand years ago, war broke out, and love that was once encouraged became heresy.Ten thousand years ago, the Red and Blue paladins made a promise they couldn’t keep.At least, they couldn’t keep it ten thousand years ago.





	1. A Discipline Problem

**Author's Note:**

> I take no credit for the idea of Galra Keith and Altean Lance. I don't know who did, but it wasn't me. This story, however, is my own.
> 
> Althos = Lance  
> Marmora = Keith

“ _So Kolivan, why’s it called the Blade of Marmora, anyway?” Lance asked, bored because he felt like there was nothing for him to do while everyone else tried to fix the castle._

_“It is named for a great Galra warrior who betrayed Zarkon ten thousand years ago,” Kolivan answered without looking up from whatever Galra tech he was working on._

_“Way back then? What’d he do?”_

_Kolivan looked up seriously, his eyes focusing on Lance._

_“He was the Paladin of the Red Lion.”_

_“Woah wait seriously? The red paladin was Galra? How exactly did he betray Zarkon?”_

_“We do not know. The answer is lost to time, or Zarkon has purposely erased it from Galra memory. But Marmora died fighting Zarkon, and that is enough. We will finish what he started.”_

 

~~~~~~

*Ten thousand years ago, on planet Altea*

 

“So Allura, d’you think there’s gonna be any cuties in the envoy?” Althos asked his cousin.

The princess, a young, spitfire thing only twelve sun-cycles old, rolled her eyes. “They’re sending their best and brightest pilots to become the Paladin of the Red Lion, and you’re worrying about whether they’re attractive?! You never change, Althos.”

“What can I say; I have my priorities straight.”

Allura groaned. “You don’t have _anything_ straight. I can’t believe I’m related to you. Nor can I believe that somehow of all the finest Altean pilots, _you_ were chosen by the Blue Lion.”

“Hey, I’m a great pilot!”

“You’d be a better one if you’d stop slacking and started training.”

They made faces at each other, until one of the king’s aides came to their place by the fountain and knelt solemnly. “Princess Allura. Duke Althos. The Galra envoy has arrived, and the king requests your presence.”

Althos and Allura exchanged glances, and then Allura sighed and got up. “We shall be there immediately. Come, cousin.”

“Don’t order me around! I’m older than you, y’know!”

“You don’t act like it.”

“I’m the one old enough to date,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her as they walked.

“I don’t have time for romance,” she sighed. “And neither do you.”

He stretched, grinning at her. “Oh Princess, there’s _always_ time for romance.”

 

Althos and Allura took their places by King Alfor’s side as they waited for the envoy to make it to the throne room. Allura stood directly at her father’s right side, and Althos waited at a respectful distance.

The Galra had been the Alteans' primary allies in creating the Lions of Voltron, and their leader, Zarkon, piloted the Black Lion, the great robot’s head. Completing the project, finally forming Voltron, was the final step in cementing their partnership.

Althos had seen plenty of Galra before-- covered in fur of various shades of purple and gray, with adorable animal-like ears. He thought they looked cute, although his mother had chastised him for thinking so. That a race as advanced and strong as the Galra were not “cute”. It didn’t stop him from thinking it, though.

When the doors opened, he straightened himself up-- he was usually a slacker, but he would never make King Alfor look bad if he could help it.

In the front was Zarkon, the Galra leader and Black Paladin. He was tall, as most Galra were, but very serious. He was a good friend of King Alfor-- as such, he did not bow when he reached the throne.

“My friend, I trust you have only good news to bring me?” Alfor remarked jovially.

“Of course. Soon we will complete the project we have worked so hard together to create-- once the Red Lion chooses its Paladin from the pilots I have brought with me.”

He gestured, and the men behind him stepped out next to him, so that they stood in a line in front of Alfor. They were dressed in typical black Galra flightsuits, helmets covering their eyes and ears. Which was disappointing to Althos, who thought that those were the most charming points of the Galra.

“These are the finest pilots the Galra have to offer,” Zarkon explained. “They have proven their worth in both combat and diplomacy.”

“I am sure that they will impress the Red Lion,” Alfor answered with a smile. “But what is this? You said there would be five joining you. I see only four.”

Zarkon’s expression darkened. “The fifth pilot has a discipline problem. He was forbidden from tainting your halls with his influence until he can learn to control himself.”

Althos couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow curiously. _Oh really? If he’s so badly-behaved, then why was he chosen in the first place?_

Not that Althos could talk, since there was absolutely no one on Altea who understood why he’d been chosen by the Blue Lion.

Alfor, though, seemed unperturbed. “I see. Well, in a few day’s time we shall hold the ceremony to join one of your pilots with the Red Lion, my friend. I hope to see him then.” Alfor stood, reaching out a hand. “In the meantime, I do hope you and your people can make themselves comfortable on Altea.”

“We will.”

The greeting officially over, the Galra pilots turned and filed out of the throne room, and Alfor turned back to his advisors-- Althos’ signal that he was dismissed.

He yawned, heading back out into the Altean sunshine. He wondered what he should do. Maybe he would go take a nap. Or maybe he’d go fly with Blue for a while. Ever since he’d been chosen as her Paladin, flying the Blue Lion was his favorite pastime-- she could go faster, more flexibly, than anything he’d been allowed to fly previously-- and as her Paladin, there were fewer restrictions on him than there had been before. He was free to do as he wished, so long as it did not embarrass the King.

But King Alfor had commanded him to remain on Altea until the Red Lion chose its paladin, so that he may befriend whoever was selected-- since they would soon be teammates.

So a nap it was, then. His favorite spot: a bench out in the garden, surrounded by sweet juniberries.

He was already feeling drowsy, plenty ready for his “well-deserved” rest, when he noticed that there was someone sitting in his usual spot, polishing a blade.

“Hey, this is _my_ spot, you!” Althos called out to the invader, trying to look as impressive and official as he could. He _was_ a duke, after all. Not that it gave him any _real_ authority, but whoever this was probably didn’t know that.

The invader looked up upon hearing Althos’ voice, and as Althos got closer he knew without a doubt that this person was Galra-- the same black flightsuit the others had been wearing. This one, however, wasn’t wearing his helmet, and his purple hair seemed longer and more ruffled than the other Galra Althos had seen. His ears twitched at Althos’s voice, and his yellow eyes narrowed.

 _He’s cute_ , Althos thought, feeling his face heat up. But he was not about to admit that to the person who had stolen his favorite place to nap.

“Who are you?” the invader asked.

“I should ask you the same question!” Althos remarked, placing his hands on his hips dramatically. “Are you supposed to be one of the envoy for the Red Lion? You look a little small for a Galra.”

“I’m a pilot,” he answered, as if that explained everything.

“And?”

“My name’s Marmora.”

“And?”

“ _And_ what? What else do you need to know?”

 _Are you single?_ Althos thought, but pushed it aside, instead asking, “why weren’t you at the formal greeting?”

“Didn’t Zarkon tell you? I wasn’t allowed to go, since I would shame Galra.”

Althos sat down on the bench next to Marmora, looking at him critically. Marmora pulled away, somehow made uncomfortable.

“I don’t get it. Aren’t the members of the envoy supposed to be ‘the best and brightest the Galra have to offer’? How’d you even get this far if you can’t follow orders?”

“I’m the best in my class,” Marmora answered matter-of-factly.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. The Galra value skill over almost all else, except maybe loyalty.” He paused, finally meeting Althos’ eyes. “And what about you? I’ve told you who I am. Now it’s your turn.”

Althos got to his feet, posing proudly and gesturing to himself with a thumb. “I’m Althos, Duke of Altea, and chosen Paladin of the Blue Lion! Pretty cool, huh?”

Marmora raised an eyebrow. “You’re a paladin?”

Althos deflated. “Why is that _everyone’s_ reaction?” he muttered to himself. “I am!” he replied out loud, again leaning toward Marmora with his hands on his hips. “And that means I’ve been a paladin longer than you, so you better respect me!”

“Um, okay, if you say so… Althos.”

Althos stared him down before finally announcing, “you’re sitting in my spot.”

“I thought this castle belonged to King Alfor,” Marmora answered.

“Well _yes_ , but _everyone knows_ that this is the place I nap!”

“Oh, how dare I,” Marmora replied sarcastically.

“Oh yes. How dare you. Now move over!”

Althos plopped onto the bench, pushing Marmora sideways with his hip. He crossed his arms, feeling triumphant. After a long silence, he peeked at Marmora with one eye. “So why are you just sitting out here? There’s supposed to be lots of fun stuff going on to celebrate your guys’ arrival.”

“I do not want to shame the Galra,” Marmora replied, still polishing his blade.

“What? That’s a stupid answer.”

“It is not _stupid_!” Marmora growled.

Althos got to his feet again, and then grinned down at him. “Hey, you’re missing out, buddy. Come on, let me show you!”

“Huh?” Marmora blinked up at him.

“Come on!” Althos demanded, grabbing Marmora by the wrist and pulling him to his feet, through the gardens.

Marmora’s sword fell out of his hand, clattering to the ground next to the bench, forgotten as Althos pulled him away, toward the city.

 

~~~~~

*Marmora’s POV*

 

It was humiliating to have been denied entrance to the castle, but he could not defy Zarkon, who he respected greatly. He supposed he should be grateful he had even come this far.

His family had not had high hopes for him, ever since he was young-- he was a “runt”, too small to enter the main army, and because his family was not affluent, they could not afford to raise his station by sending him through school. Constantly picked on as a child, Marmora had quickly learned to fight off enemies much bigger and stronger than himself. He had earned a reputation in his hometown by the time he was old enough to even attend school.

It was by luck that Zarkon had found him-- not that the leader remembered it. He had been on his way to supervise a training mission at the nearby flight school when he had seen Marmora win a scuffle. Apparently impressed, he had commanded his aide to have Marmora attend the military academy.

His parents had been elated. He was not a disappointment, after all.

His first time flying, he felt like every barrier he had ever faced suddenly melted away. When you were a pilot, size and strength didn’t matter. He proved himself through skill, even if he was constantly in detention for getting in fights with other students, dressing out of uniform (he disliked wearing his helmet), and acting recklessly in combat.

When he had been chosen to attend to the envoy to Altea, his parents had cried tears of joy. Their problem child Marmora was now one of Galra’s “best and brightest”. He only hoped that they never found out that he wasn’t even allowed to go greet the king.

Frustrated, Marmora did the only thing he knew to do when he was not flying-- he polished his blade. It was unusual, for the Galra army-- curved, and made of luxite, a rare metal. It was given to him by his mother, a proud soldier. In its handle was a rune-- apparently his family’s crest.

He focused entirely on the task of polishing the blade, doing his best to forget about his shame. He was so enraptured that he did not hear the Altean boy approach until he spoke.

“Hey, this is _my_ spot, you!”

Marmora looked up in annoyance, his concentration broken.

The Altean boy was taller than him-- an irritating fact, since Galra are typically taller than the Alteans-- with the same white hair, dark skin, and blue eyes he had seen in many Alteans, especially nobles.

Marmora always felt uncomfortable around Alteans-- they all looked the same to him. At least Galra had different fur patterns and colors, but often the Alteans had to change their skin color or size just so that they could be distinguishable to the Galra. Their way of changing shape or color also made him a bit uncomfortable. If he could make himself taller at will, he would.

That was why, when this Altean boy-- Althos-- sat down on the bench next to him, he pulled away, not used to this kind of contact from strangers, and especially not Alteans, who he had always seen from a distance.

As their conversation-- if you could call it that-- went on, however, Marmora did notice one thing about Althos that stuck out to him: his smile.

It was sideways, one side of his mouth higher than the other, his teeth flashing behind the curve of his lips as he proudly announced himself the Paladin of the Blue Lion. Even as Althos talked, Marmora was internally hoping he would smile again, so he could look at it more closely.

He didn’t know what to do when Althos grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. He’d been too distracted trying to understand the Altean’s loose, relaxed body language-- so different from the Galra AND the formality he’d come to expect from Alteans-- so much so that he’d been completely off-balance when Althos had taken his wrist.

Such bad form for a soldier. If any of his supervisors had been watching, he would have gotten a tongue-lashing… or an actual lashing.

But they weren’t there. He was so startled, so enraptured by this strangely cocky, self-absorbed boy that he forgot he was holding his sword, letting it fall to the ground as he let himself get pulled away, into Althos’ world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how well this story follows the actual canon history, since I haven't seen the original Voltron. I think it's been hinted that King Alfor was actually the original paladin of the Red Lion, but this is where my AU went, so please try to take it with a grain of salt. Yes, it's very angsty. Not so much in the beginning, but definitely later. Think Moulin Rouge.


	2. The Color of the City

_“So why is it the BLADE of Marmora, then? Why not ‘Children of Marmora’ or ‘Marmora’s Biggest Fans’?”_

_“Marmora was captured and killed by Zarkon. He never_ had _any children,” Kolivan answered with increasing annoyance. "And Marmora was a martyr, not a musician.”_

_“He could’ve been both!”_

_“I’m not sure why I bother to answer your questions.”_

_“Okay but seriously, what’s with the ‘Blade’?”_

_Kolivan whisked his sword out of its sheath, holding it so that its edge shined toward Lance. “When he was captured, one of Zarkon’s aides, who had known Marmora personally, recovered a Luxite blade quite like this one. It was a family heirloom Marmora had chosen to fight with instead of his bayard. We took that family heirloom and made it into the crest of our Resistance.”_

 

_~~~~~_

Althos pulled Marmora away from the Castle of Lions, and down into the main square where people of many species were talking and laughing. The smell of food tickled Marmora’s nostrils, making his stomach groan. He hadn’t eaten since before they’d left their home world, and the many varieties of warm, spiced snacks from all around the universe seemed to be teasing him.

Althos stopped, turning to look back at Marmora. “You hungry?”

“No,” he answered.

Althos raised an eyebrow, and Marmora felt heat rise into his cheeks. “Maybe a little.”

Althos grinned. “Thought so. What do you wanna eat? It’s on me. Treating the guest and all.”

There were so many options that Marmora couldn’t pick one. He pointed at a stand at random, and Althos quickly pulled him over to it.

“We’ll take two, please!” Althos demanded of the stand’s cook.

The cook, a middle-aged Altean woman, turned. As soon as she saw Althos, her customer-friendly smile widened. “Duke Althos! I hadn’t expected to see you until night fell!” she paused, noticing Marmora. “Oh? Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Althos replied, letting go of Marmora’s wrist. “We just met. He’s one of the Galra envoy.”

“Oh, REALLY!” the woman seemed delighted. “What an honor! Here, here, take some!”

She handed him a tray heaped full of her dumplings. It was definitely much more than the two helpings Althos had ordered.

“You need to eat a little more, honey!” the woman demanded cheerily. “You’re small for a Galra! Good luck bonding with the Red Lion! I’ll be cheering for you!”

Marmora blushed a deeper purple, quickly walking away while Althos paid for the food.

Althos turned and ran after him, catching up quickly. “Hey, what’s the big deal? I buy you dinner and then you just ditch me?”

“S-sorry. I just don’t like people commenting about my height.”

“Huh? Oh, really?”

“Yes. Looking up to you is irritating.”

“D’ya want me to shrink?”

“NO.”

Marmora sat down on the street curb so that he could eat, looking out at the bright colors of the Altean festivities. Althos plopped down next to him, handing him a spork. “You’re gonna need this, unless you wanna eat with your hands, you heathen.”

It was a joke, Marmora could tell, but he scowled. “Why are you still with me? You’re a duke, aren’t you? Don’t you have responsibilities?”

Althos leaned back on his hands, his tray in his lap. “Nope! On Altea, only the actual King and his daughter have any say in anything. The nobility only really serve as diplomats. Besides. I don’t want to leave you alone in a new city. What if you got lost?”

Marmora pointed back toward the castle, which loomed high over the city. “I won’t get lost. I could wander for hundreds of quadrants and still find my way back.”

“Oh. Right. But well, it would still be rude to let you wander around alone. I mean, you don’t know anyone on Altea, right?”

“No,” Marmora admitted.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying with me the rest of the day.”

“Don’t make decisions for me!”

“Why?” Althos replied indignantly. “Do you not like me?”

“N-no…” Marmora grumbled, feeling heat rise in his cheeks again. Curse this insistent Altean! “I thought you said we weren’t friends,” he muttered, not meeting Althos’ eyes as he said it.

This time it was Althos’ turn to blush. He turned away, nervously running a hand through his hair. “W-well, that was ten dobashes ago. How could I say you’re my friend if we only just met? But if you want to be friends, I guess we--”

“What did she mean?” Marmora interrupted, “when she said she didn’t expect to see you until night time?”

“Huh? Oh, that? During festivals, there’s usually a big dance in the main square at night time. I like to go to meet gir-- I mean, to meet… new people.”

Marmora noticed Althos changing his wording, but ignored it. “You dance?”

“Oh yeah, you’re looking at the three-time Drellmar Festival dancing champ!” he grinned, the same sideways smile that so fascinated Marmora. “Do _you_ dance?”

“Of course not. That would be frivolous.”

Althos rolled his eyes. “Oh man, you need to _live_ a little, Marmora! It’s a good thing you have me with you.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna teach you all the stuff I know, okay? All the best places to sleep, to go hang out, have a good time. It’s gonna be great!”

Marmora stopped, his spork most of the way to his mouth. His chest felt weird when he looked at Althos. He was _charming_. Addictive, almost.

Then his eyes focused on a group of black-clad Galra strolling cheerily through the Altean crowd, being greeted gleefully by the townspeople.

“Oh no,” Marmora breathed, getting to his feet.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Zarkon can’t see me here. I wasn’t supposed to show my face in public until I was forgiven. I-I have to go.”

He turned to run off, dashing through the crowd. If he just went around the corner…

“Hang on, Marmora!” Althos called after him. The Altean immediately caught up, wrapping his fingers around Marmora’s hands. “I know just the place to go. Just come with me!”

And then they were running, dashing through shimmering alleyways and past decadent gardens, around groups of giggling women of different alien species, past an Altean street patrol that shouted for them to stop until they realized that one of them was Duke Althos.

Again, Marmora found himself trusting Althos without question, following every step as if it was only natural. It was against everything he’d been taught in the military academy. How he should have his guard up at all times. Trust no one except your commanding officer.

Althos brushed all of that aside just by taking his hand.

They emerged in a copse of trees, gasping for breath. Althos let go of Marmora’s hand, leaning over to breathe easier. “We should… be far enough away,” he gasped, before straightening and grinning at Marmora. “No one ever comes here. No way Zarkon’s gonna know.”

Marmora thought of all of the people that saw them run by and frowned. _Sure he won’t_. But he didn’t say so. Instead, he looked around.

It was darkening already, and the copse of trees was becoming an increasingly deep blue-green. “Where are we?”

“Oh, this is the coolest place in the city. It used to be a pretty popular park, but now most people go to the gardens up by the castle, since Vollmars come here occasionally. But I think they’re missing out.”

“On what?” Marmora asked, looking again at the greenery surrounding them. “There’s nothing here but trees.”

“Oh, but you miss the bigger picture!” Althos replied with a wink. “Observe.”

He walked to the edge of the clearing and grabbed ahold of a curtain of leafy vines and pulled them aside, draping them over a tree branch.

Late evening sunlight burst into the clearing, initially stabbing at Marmora’s eyes, which had just adjusted to the darkness.

When his vision cleared, his breath caught.

They were overlooking the water, which fractured the sunlight into shimmers of gold and violet and pink. Across the curve of the beach was the city, its lights already beginning to wink on with the fading light, and in the distance rose noble blue mountains whose foothills were covered in green and deep red.

The light filtered off of the water, casting rainbows onto Althos’ white hair, darkening his skin but making his blue eyes seem even brighter. Marmora had never thought of Alteans as particularly attractive, but that didn’t apply anymore. Althos was a beautiful creature, too beautiful for his own good.

“Wow.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Marmora swallowed, looking away from Althos’ illuminated face. “Galra is full of red rock. It’s mostly stone and red dust. You don’t get… views like this… all that often.”

Althos sat down in the grass, then patted the ground next to him.

Marmora hesitated, then moved over to sit in the window to the water next to Althos. His heart was beating like crazy. He was insane. _This guy’s definitely a womanizer_ , he thought. And yet there he was, sitting side by side with him.

The silence that followed as they both looked out over the water wasn’t uncomfortable. It was hard to imagine that they’d met only earlier that day.

They didn’t move, even as the sun dipped behind the horizon and the city lights became the only ones glinting off of the water.

“Aren’t you going to go dance?” Marmora asked, annoyed that he was afraid of what the answer would be.

“Nah. I go every year. I can miss one occasionally.”

Marmora was happy, in spite of himself.

“Unless you want to see me dance?”

Marmora’s heart jumped into his throat. “I don’t… I have better things to do.”

Althos looked at him critically, his gaze not leaving Marmora’s face. “Do you? Do you really?”

Marmora leaned away, glad that it was dark, or Althos would be able to see the purple in his face deepen. “Maybe… not.”

Althos reached over and placed a hand over Marmora’s, looking at him eagerly. “C’mon, you can dance with me!”

“I can’t dance!” Marmora argued.

“It’s not that hard. I’ll teach you!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious!” Without waiting for an answer, Althos pulled Marmora to his feet, clasping his hand tightly. “Okay, now the cool thing about this dance is that you don’t have to worry that much about footwork so long as you’re going in the right direction…”

 

~~~~~

 

“This feels weird,” Marmora complained, tugging at the blue hood covering his ears.

“Aw come on! You look good in white!”

“I’ve never worn clothes this… loose.”

Because he was afraid to be recognized by Zarkon, Marmora had agreed to wear Altean clothes that an over-zealous shopkeeper had offered to give him for free.

“He’s just too adorable!” she had squeaked to Althos.

He was wearing breeches, a tunic, and a hooded cloak that covered his ears and hung over his face. It was a mixed pattern of light blue and blinding white; almost the opposite of his flight suit.

“How much is it?” Marmora asked the shopkeeper.

“Oh now don’t you worry about that! It’s more than enough that a Paladin of Voltron will be wearing the clothes I made!”

Marmora blushed. “I’m not actually a Paladin yet…”

“Oh I’m sure you will be,” she scoffed. “Now hurry up, boys! You’re going to be late for the dance! I wouldn’t want Althos to miss the opportunity to be the four-time champion!”

She pushed them out the door to the shop, closing the door behind them. Marmora looked back at her, and she waved him away through the window. Finally, he gave up, and began walking toward the colorful lights surrounding the main square.

He tugged on his hood again, feeling out of place.

“C’mon, the more you worry about it, the more you’re gonna stick out. Just relax, Marmora! No one’s gonna recognize you!”

As they reached the festival, though, the crowd roared. “It’s Duke Althos!” people squealed, rushing toward him. Marmora was pushed aside as Althos was greeted by hundreds of delighted Alteans, all eager to see him dance.

Althos was pushed further and further away from Marmora, until he practically emerged in the center of the square.

He turned back to the gathered people and bowed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Duke Althos at your service.”

The people cheered, and Marmora carefully made his way to the front of the crowd, still tugging on his hood. But he had to admit, he was curious.

“Start the music!” he heard cheered from above him-- it was the Altean King, Alfor, on a balcony. Zarkon was next to him, looking as serious as ever.

Drums began to beat all around, joined by flutes and strings of all kinds. Althos began to move, whipping his cloak around himself as he dipped and spun. It was a very Althos-like dance, filled with winks to the audience and sideways grins and white hair spilling out behind him. He was a performer, and a good one.

The music sped up, and people surged into the center of the square to join Althos in his dance. A young non-Altean woman linked arms with Althos, spinning with him jovially before partners changed, and he was dancing with the woman from the food stand.

 _His people love him_ , Marmora noticed. For all Althos’ talk about being lazy and not having any power as a duke, somehow the Altean people adored him.

Something pushed past him, and Marmora looked down to see the Altean princess entering the circle. More people cheered in delight. She danced with Althos, too, laughing even as he lifted her up and spun her in a circle.

Althos turned to dance around the edge of the square, pulling people from the edges into the dance. As he approached, Marmora felt himself pushed from behind, and into the square. Seeing him, Althos’ eyes lit up. He immediately grabbed Marmora’s hand, just as he had so many times earlier that day.

Marmora knew he was moving just as clumsily as he had when Althos had tried to teach him to dance back in the park, but Althos didn’t seem to mind. He was laughing and dancing, effortlessly pulling Marmora into his rhythm.

Marmora almost didn’t notice when his hood blew down behind him, as focused as he was. The music filled his ears, twitching with their sudden freedom.

When the song ended, he was pulled close to Althos. Fireworks exploded into the sky above them, and he found himself laughing. His forehead brushed Althos’, and they continued clasping each other’s hands, their laughter hidden under the whistle of the fireworks, and the beat of Marmora’s heart hidden under the beat of the drums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. Another headcannon that Lance is actually a pretty good dancer, it's just that no one believes him. Even more so with Altean Lance (Althos)


	3. Blushing Faces

_“If he was gonna betray Zarkon, why’d he choose the Galra blade over the bayard?”_

_“That was ten thousand years ago, Blue Paladin,” Kolivan answered with exasperation. “Anyone who knows for certain is dead. We don’t even know if our story of Marmora is true. It may even be a myth that we have clung onto for all of these years. There is no way to know for certain.”_

_“Okay, okay, I get it!” Lance grumbled, slouching in his chair. “But… what do_ you _think, Kolivan?”_

_Kolivan sighed, then turned to glare at Lance with both yellow eyes. “Maybe Marmora wanted Zarkon to  know that when he defied him, he did it as a Galra. That when he fought him, it was Zarkon that betrayed the Galra, not Marmora."_

 

~~~~~

 

Althos danced away the whole night, just as he always had, but it felt different this time. He didn’t care quite so much that the ladies always had their attention on him, or even that his dance was particularly impressive. He just wanted to keep dancing with Marmora, watching that ever-so-serious face crack into a smile as the night itself seemed to spin around them.

When his hood had come off, and the people recognized Marmora as Galra, people insisted that he dance with them. The Galra-Altean alliance was the greatest thing to celebrate, and everyone was eager to do so.

He felt Marmora’s hands slip away as the next dance began and he was dragged off by excited Alteans, wanting to properly welcome their guest. He stood there for a second, until he felt someone elbow him.

He looked down, seeing Allura scowling up at him. “What’s wrong, Althos?” she shouted over the music, "don’t you want to dance?”

“Of course! I gotta show my skills!” He grabbed her hand, pulling her into the fray, but he was much less excited this time. More than once, Allura followed his gaze, her face puckering.

She let go of his hand, disappearing into the crowd like kids her age could do, but was quickly replaced by another townsperson, eager to enjoy Althos’ presence.

In a brief glance, Althos saw Allura appear on the balcony, whispering something into her father’s ear. But before he could see what the king’s reaction was, he was getting pulled in another direction, and was forced to focus on what he was doing.

He kept reaching for Marmora, always getting grabbed by someone else instead, until close to the end, when the lady from the food stand let go of Marmora, handing him back to Althos with a wink.

This was a pattern that repeated countless times throughout the night: they would be paired for a short while, then pulled away for an achingly long time, before finding each other again.

It wasn’t until the first rays of morning poked over the mountains, and the last of the dancers filtered out of the square, that they finally stopped.

Marmora collapsed on the ground, exhausted. “I-I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

Althos laughed. “That, my friend, is called _fun_. You should try it some time.”

Marmora suddenly paled, looking up at the balcony. It was empty-- no sign of Allura, Alfor, or Zarkon. “Oh no. I got so caught up, I completely forgot…”

“Hey, calm down.”

“I’m in so much trouble already, I--”

Marmora was interrupted when someone cleared their throat.

King Alfor stood before them, smiling.

Althos jumped. “Uncle Alfor!”

Alfor chuckled. “It was good to see your dance again this year, Althos. I was beginning to get worried, since I had not seen your face since the greeting.”

Althos rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I was, uh… busy.”

“I see,” Alfor answered with a glint in his eye, then looked down to Marmora, offering a him a hand. “And you must be the mysterious fifth Galra pilot!”

It took a moment before Marmora accepted the hand, allowing Alfor to haul him to his feet. “Y-yes, sir. My name is Marmora.”

“I was relieved to see you joining the festivities. The Galra pilots were hesitant to do more than greet the people, and I was beginning to wonder if there would be tension. But that evaporated when I saw you enjoying yourself.”

Marmora looked down at his feet. “I was not supposed to greet you, Your Majesty. I’m unworthy.”

Alfor shook his head. “Nonsense! If you’re worthy of my nephew’s interest, then you’re worthy of greeting me,” he declared, giving Althos a hearty clap on the shoulder. “I was worried that the Galra would be unsettled by his manners, but you two seem to have already become good friends.”

“Well, I admit, I was quite unsettled by him,” Marmora answered, and Althos thought he could see his cheeks deepen in color, “but it’s because of him I was able to have… fun.”

Althos thought he saw Alfor’s lips twitch. He turned to Althos, reaching up and ruffling his hair. “You’ve done well, Nephew. I should have known I could count on my best diplomat to make our guest comfortable.” He let go, nodding to the two of them. “You must be exhausted, Marmora. I am sure Althos would be happy to show you back to your quarters.”

Althos’ face reddened immediately. “W-wait, what’re you--?!”

But the king had already turned, beginning to walk away. “I will expect you to continue acting as Marmora’s guide for the next few days as well, Althos,” he called over his shoulder as he walked.

Althos internally cursed Allura for whatever she had whispered in Alfor’s ear, because the old geezer was _definitely_ trying to sabotage him. He was blushing so deeply he was pretty sure people were going to mistake _him_ for the Red Lion’s paladin.

“Althos, are you okay?” Marmora was asking him.

“Y-yeah, I’m, uh, fine,” he replied, but he was still hiding his face behind his hands. “We should get back to the castle. Since you’ve been awake for more than a day straight.”

“It’s okay. We can, um… stay out longer… if you want.”

Althos peeked at Marmora’s face through his fingers, and saw that he was looking away, a deep violet dusting his cheeks. It took a while for his words to sink in, but when they finally reached his brain, Althos’ blush creeped from his face all the way up to his ears and neck.

“W-well I mean, we should both sleep, and, um, King Alfor told me to take care of you, so I might get in trouble if I… do… anything…”

He was pretty sure he was experiencing internal combustion, he felt so warm.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Marmora replied, his own blush deepening. “I just don’t want to go back and see Zarkon. He’s probably furious since I defied his direct order _yet_ _again_. He might be angry enough to prohibit me from even meeting the Red Lion. I would waste the whole reason I came here.”

Althos nodded slowly, trying to make his heartbeat calm down, now that he realized he’d been acting stupidly. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll go with you! If Zarkon gets grumpy about it, you can just blame it on me, say that none of it was your idea. What’s he gonna do? Punish me? _I_ don’t have to listen to him.”

Marmora looked up at him, also seeming to relax. “I don’t want you to put in too much effort for my sake. I mean, I know the King ordered you to, but…”

“Excuse you! You don’t think I spent the whole day with you just because King Alfor told me to, do you?!”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course not! He only told me to stick by you _just now_. Before that, all he said was that I had to stay on Altea. I didn’t do anything today I didn’t want to. Just so you know.”

Marmora suddenly reached back and pulled his hood over his face, holding it tightly around himself. “Ok I get it,” he grumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting weird. Why are you hiding all of a sudden?!” Althos pleaded, trying to pull Marmora’s hood down.

Marmora ducked out of the way, running ahead. “It’s nothing! Let’s hurry back.”

“Hey, don’t avoid the question! Marmora!” Again he tried to grab the hood down, and again Marmora dodged. And again. And again.

Althos gave up, huffing, “dude, you have seriously good reflexes.”

“I _am_ one of Galra’s best and brightest.”

Althos laughed, finally turning back to the street. “Well come on, ‘Best and Brightest'. It’s time to go to bed.”

They strolled quietly down the empty city streets. Most of its occupants were asleep, even with the coming dawn.

“Are you really Altea’s best diplomat, or was King Alfor just making that up?” Marmora asked, still hiding under his hood.

“Oh that, well I guess, statistically I am.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

Althos rubbed the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed. “Well, I mean, we’ve formed an alliance with every planet I’ve gone to, but I still don’t really know how I do it. Allura keeps saying I’m the worst diplomat ever, but people just… _like_ me for some reason.”

Marmora chuckled. “I’m surprised it’s not something you brag about.”

“Hey, I don’t brag that much!”

Peeking out from under his hood, Marmora made a doubtful face at him.

“I really do, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s just because I’m such hot stuff,” Althos joked, but then sighed, admitting, “I don’t know… I guess I just don’t think I can count it as an accomplishment. Like, being the Blue Paladin is cool because you have to be _chosen_ and stuff, so there’s something special about me that Blue appreciates. And, well, I didn’t actually _do_ anything to be Duke of Altea, but none of my siblings get official ‘Duke’ status, so it still feels special.”

“You have siblings?”

“Three of ‘em. It prepares you for a lot, I have to admit. Aliens are nothing compared to a teething Altean.”

Marmora laughed again, and Althos had to admit, hearing that sound as often as possible had pretty quickly become one of his life goals. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What about you?”

“My parents were scared to have children after me.”

“What does _that_ mean?!”

Again, Marmora stopped, looking at him pointedly.

“Oh. Hey, _you_ told me that you didn’t like people talking about your height! I was just trying to respect that!”

Marmora turned, again walking down the street. “Well… thanks for that, I guess.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Althos breathed. He looked down, noticing that Marmora’s legs were shaking.

“Dude! When was the last time you slept?!”

“A… while ago.”

“Okay, come on, it’s definitely time to go,” Althos commanded, hurrying down the street toward the castle.

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Marmora blamed it on the dance. Even his training in the military academy had not been so exhausting.

He knew it was the dance that made his legs shake as he walked, so it must be because of the dance that his face felt so hot when Althos announced that he’d spent the day with him out of his own free will.

He’d pulled the hood over his face so that Althos couldn’t see the depth of his blush. He probably looked ridiculous. Galra blushed under their fur, so it made him look mottled and splotchy, and he was fairly sure Althos would comment about it.

After Althos’ declaration, they made their way back to the castle in comfortable silence, their shoulders brushing occasionally, which made Marmora shiver a bit-- or maybe he was just cold under the loose Altean clothing, since he’d been warm while they were dancing, but now that he’d relaxed, the night air felt chilly.

Actually, now that they weren’t talking, Marmora felt his eyelids start to droop. Adrenaline had energized him until now, but as it wore off, his exhaustion was taking its toll.

By the time they arrived at the castle, his footsteps had become uneven and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Once or twice, Althos had to grab his arm to keep him from falling over, even though he looked pretty tired himself.

“We’re almost there. Just hang on,” Althos urged.

They walked in through the cavernous entry room, and then through echoing hallways. He wondered why it was so necessary to make the Castle of Lions so _big_.

“I’m pretty sure this hall is where the Galra envoy is staying,” Althos was saying. “You each have your own rooms, but I don’t know which one is yours.”

Marmora looked around nervously. “I think if I go to bed now, I can at least escape punishment until tomorrow.”

“Hey, you’re gonna be _fine_.”

“You can only say that because you don’t know Zarkon.”

“That might be true, but I still think you’re gonna be--”

“Marmora.”

Both Althos and Marmora spun to see Zarkon looming over them. Marmora stiffened, awaiting his punishment. “I’ve returned, Zarkon.”

“I gave you instructions to not show your face in public,” Zarkon growled. “So that you would have time to reflect on your actions. Instead, I see you engaging in frivolities.”

Marmora bowed his head, tense. “I am sorry.”

And then suddenly Althos was sliding his hand into Marmora’s. He looked confidently up at Zarkon. “I saw Marmora and thought he could use some fun. I’m the Blue Paladin, y’know?”

“Yes, I am aware who you are, Duke Althos.”

“So just… let him go, okay? I’m the one who dragged him around all day.”

Zarkon paused, looking down at him. “You have odd tastes, Althos.”

Althos grinned, his hand still warm in Marmora’s. “I have only the best tastes, I assure you.”

“I will see you tomorrow, then,” promised Zarkon, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

Marmora felt his breath leave his lungs, suddenly feeling even more tired than he had before.

“I’m… gonna go to bed,” he announced. “I’m pretty sure my room will be the furthest down the hall. So… goodnight.” He started to pull away, but Althos was still holding his hand. “Althos, I need to go.”

Althos loosened his grip on Marmora’s hand, then lifted it slowly to his lips, before gently kissing its surface. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

It was the exact same wording Zarkon had used, but where from Zarkon it had sounded like a threat, from Althos it sounded like a promise.

“Y-yeah. Tomorrow.”

Althos let go of his hand, and Marmora quickly headed down the hallway, hurrying into his room and closing the door behind himself, sliding down to the ground as soon as he was safely on the other side.

 _Stupid charming Altean boy!_ He thought to himself, burying his again overheating face in his hands. They hadn’t even known each other for an entire day, and yet Althos made his heart beat fast, his feet go weak, his blood rush to his skin. He had had _fun_. He had never experienced this much joy in his whole life. Not even when Zarkon had given him special permission to attend the military academy had he been this happy.

And it had only been one day.

 _Don’t get too used to it_ , he reminded himself. _Don’t get addicted to him. After the Red Lion chooses its paladin, you go back to the Galra homeworld, and you never see each other again._

But still, he couldn’t help but be eager to see Althos the next day.


	4. The Blue Lion

_Kolivan, tired of Lance’s questions, had grumbled something about returning to his ship, and left Lance alone in the control room, spinning around in his chair._

_He sat up quickly when the doors opened and Coran stepped through, looking around curiously. “Where did Kolivan go?” he asked, in his usual relaxed manner._

_“He was just here. I think he was going to go back to his ship for a while.”_

_“Oh alright, then. Thank you, Lance,” he replied, turning to leave again._

_“Hey Coran?” Lance called out before Coran stepped out through the doors._

_“Yes?”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me that the Red Paladin was Galra?”_

_“WHAT?! What nonsense are you spurting?! The Red Paladin was King Alfor!”_

~~~~~

*Althos’ POV*

Kissing Marmora’s hand had been an impulse, but one he was happy he’d indulged in. If he hadn’t done _something_ before watching him walk away, he would’ve gone crazy. There were dozens of other things he’d _wanted_ to do, but he figured most of them were a little bit soon for someone like Marmora.

If… if he even thought of Althos that way.

That was a frightening thought. What if Marmora really just thought of him as a friend? What if he was so dense that he interpreted all of Althos’ blatant flirtation as just… good manners or something? Not that Althos had ever been accused of having good manners. His father had chastised him hundreds of times for being too casual.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. He was overthinking this. _Way_ overthinking this.

As he passed by a castle window, he looked out over the city, the sun now high enough in the sky that much of it was illuminated. Somehow, it seemed so much brighter than it always had.

Althos had planned dozens of dates that never happened. Girls, boys-- even at festivals, they were all eager to dance with him, but no one seemed interested in much more. Was it because he was a Duke? Was it just something about him?

He’d imagined a lot of days like the one he’d just had. In a way, he’d had it all planned in advance: the food from the street vendor, the visit to the park with the incredible view, the dance in the main square. It’s just that none of it had actually _happened_ before. He hadn’t been doing it on purpose, but somehow he’d ended up subconsciously following his imaginary date formula without even thinking about it.

He turned away from the window, continuing through the halls to his living quarters. Ever since he’d been chosen as the Blue Paladin, he’d started living in the Castle of Lions, rather than with his parents and siblings. He wondered, briefly, what his mother would say.

 _I don’t know why our son is so hung up on love_ , she would sigh. _He’s a good enough diplomat, he could just marry the leader of a distant planet and live happily, but he insists on lending his heart out to every humanoid he finds attractive._

Althos laughed to himself. When he had been a child, his mother had told him that his heart was too big for him, but when he had grown older, she’d become exasperated, insisting that he settle down.

But that was that and this was this. Althos had never _wanted_ anything so strongly. Had never been so delighted just hearing someone laugh, watching them smile, feeling their warmth against his hand. He’d always just floated from moment to moment, without any real direction.

And it had only been one day.

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

It was mid-day by the time Marmora woke up, with a severely stiff neck and badly rumpled clothes.

He’d been so exhausted that he’d never made it to the bed, instead falling asleep in front of the door, right where he’d fallen.

Now that he was awake, the light pouring through the window seemed to be obtrusively bright, making it necessary to blink several times before he could actually focus his eyes. He got to his feet, stretching in an attempt to relieve his sore neck. His legs felt like jelly, probably because of all the dancing, but at least they were holding his weight.

He looked down at the badly wrinkled Altean clothes. He couldn’t very well wear them again today, but all he really had brought with him was more flight suits.

It was odd-- it felt almost like it wasn’t the fact that he was Galra that made him stick out on Altea. It was the flight suit. It was like a black blot in the midst of a watercolor painting, marking him as isolated from the casual warmth of Altean people. It was too… professional, in that it seemed to indicate that he was always a _pilot_ , and never a _person_. It had never bothered him before, but it did now, away from the cold atmosphere of the homeworld.

It wasn’t as if Galra were _incapable_ of warmth-- actually, they were quite community-based-- it was just that their world itself wasn’t particularly forgiving. They became strict because frivolity wasted precious resources. They developed technology because it eased their hard lives. They became militant because the military offered people a way toward social advancement. In many ways, it was only to be expected. Still, it was a culture very out of place among the Alteans.

He sighed, out of options. _A flight suit it is, I guess_.

He dressed quickly, wondering what he was going to do that day. “Free time” was an anomaly to him. It didn’t exist in the military academy-- if you had time to play, then you had time to train. But the ceremony to bond with the Red Lion wasn’t until tomorrow-- what would he do until then? Was his order not to show his face in public still in effect?

There was a knock on his door, and Marmora hurried to finish dressing himself. “What is it?” he called out.

“Zarkon has lifted your restraint.” It was one of his fellow pilots, a capable flyer by the name of Elznef. “However, he advises against any more dancing,” he added, with amusement in his voice.

“Understood,” Marmora answered. He heard Elznef depart, then counted for ten seconds. That should be enough time for him to be able to leave his room undisturbed.

Cautiously, he made his way out. The hallway was empty, and there were no signs that the other Galra were still in their rooms. He was free. But what should he do?

 _If I have time to play, then I have time to train_ , he thought. _Althos would HATE that idea_. He felt a smile play at his lips at that thought, but figured he should probably get some sword practice in nonetheless.

He froze. His _sword!_ He’d completely forgotten it in the Castle’s garden. What if it was stolen, or trashed, or-- he’d better go find it.

He hurried out to the gardens, trying to remember where exactly he’d been sitting the previous day. He hadn’t really been _thinking_ about location when he’d sat down to polish the blade-- he’d just wanted somewhere quiet to sit.

He meandered through the greenery, trying to find anything recognizable. Was this even the right garden?

 _It was a cushioned bench, surrounded by those pink-red Altean flowers_ , he recalled, still scanning the ground for his sword.

“Oh! Here!” He remarked out loud, turning a corner and finding the bench. On the ground in front of it lay his sword, and his forgotten polishing equipment scattered across the top.

Relieved, he picked up the sword, clutching its hilt tightly. It was right where he left it.

“Be careful with that thing! Someone could get hurt!”

Marmora spun around to see Althos grinning at him. “Also, you’re in my spot.”

Ignoring the bubble of joy that rose in him, Marmora quickly slid his sword into the sheath on the back of his flight suit. “Good morning.”

“G’morning! I wasn’t sure where to find you, since the castle aides said that you’d left your room already, so I came here.”

“I was just here for my sword,” Marmora explained quickly. “Not because I was waiting for you.”

“Sure sure. Anyway, so what do you want to do today?”

“What do _I_ want?” Marmora asked skeptically.

“Yeah. You do _want_ things, right?”

“No… I mean, yes, it’s just that yesterday you pretty much decided everything for me,” Marmora answered.

Althos shrugged. “It was the heat of the moment. But what do you want to do?”

“I was going to train for a while.”

Althos rolled his eyes. “That’s not an answer. What do you _want_ to do?”

Marmora thought about it, then found himself smiling, pulling his sword out of its sheath. “Do you want to train with me?”

 

Marmora and Althos faced each other in the castle’s training room, each holding a dulled blade. “Ready?” Marmora asked.

“Are there rules?” Althos asked, looking uncomfortable.

“If you land a ‘killing blow’, I lose.”

“Got it. Okay yeah, I’m ready.”

Marmora dashed forward, swinging. Althos blocked, but was pushed backwards, startled. “Woah!”

Marmora ducked, trying to hit Althos from behind, but Althos moved out of the way, parrying him again. As Marmora tried to attack again, Althos jumped, avoiding the blade yet again.

This exchange continued, with Althos blocking or dodging him almost every time. Still, he was getting pushed back with every attempt, until he was up against the wall. With nowhere to go, Althos failed one block, and Marmora was able to knock his sword out of his hand, and then press his own blade against Althos’ neck, grinning.

“I win,” he said smugly.

Althos stuck his hands up in the air in defeat, although he didn’t look particularly disappointed. “You got me. I kind of prefer to fight at a nice safe _distance_ , anyway. But you’re really good at the whole sword thing!”

Marmora smirked, pulling his blade away from Althos’ throat. “And you’re _lousy_.”

“Hey, my dad said I had to know how to hold a sword. He never said I had to be able to use it.”

Marmora laughed. “Maybe you need more practice,” he said, picking up Althos’ sword and holding it out to him.

“What, we have to do this _again_?”

“You said you’d train with me.”

“Well yeah, but I hadn’t expected to get my butt kicked this badly.”

Marmora grinned, dropping into a crouch. “Are you giving up?”

Althos frowned. “No way, dude.”

 

About ten minutes later, Marmora pinned him up against the wall yet again, after at least three victories that had been achieved other ways, realizing that they’d acquired an audience. Both Altean soldiers and some of his fellow pilots were standing on the fringes of the training deck, watching Marmora and Althos exchange blows.

“I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose,” Marmora commented, his brow furrowed.

Althos winked. “What gave you that idea?”

“Do you actually suck _this_ bad?”

“Yes. But I also don’t mind getting pinned against the wall, to be honest.”

Marmora immediately pulled away, stepping back and dropping his sword. “You are such a-- stop that!”

“Stop what?” Althos asked innocently.

“Nevermind,” Marmora grumbled. Althos’ constant flirtatiousness drove him crazy, because he was fairly sure it was just his general personality, rather than anything to do with Marmora himself.

“So are we gonna go another round, or do you want to do something else?” Althos asked, rubbing his neck.

“I’m done for today,” Marmora scowled.

“Good! Because I have someone I want you to meet.”

“I thought you said you were going to let me do what _I_ wanted today?” Marmora teased.

“Yes. But just let me do this _one_ thing, okay? You’ll like it, I promise.”

Marmora looked at him skeptically, but dropped his training sword back into its wall slot. “Okay, but it better not be anything that’ll get me in trouble.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

“Ta-dah! Meet my bestest buddy in the whole universe!” Althos announced, gesturing to the enormous mechanical lion looming over him. “Marmora, meet Blue. Blue, meet Marmora.”

Marmora stared up at the lion, eyes wide. “ _This_ was who you wanted me to meet?”

“Hey. Don’t be mean. Blue has feelings. Don’t ya, Blue?”

As a response, Blue lowered her energy shield, looking down at them. When Althos had first met her, Blue had been much more mechanical and unresponsive-- more like a machine than like a conscious being. As they’d gotten to know each other better, Althos found that Blue was warm, friendly and playful.

Blue rumbled, her voice echoing through Althos’ mind. It was hard to say how exactly he understood her-- it wasn’t words in the normal sense, but he could usually interpret her grumbles and purrs as translations of her thoughts.

 _He is cute,_ she observed, leaning down and looking at Marmora carefully, which seemed to make him a bit unnerved. _He is very different from the others you have brought to meet me_.

Althos blushed, blurting, “BLUE! Don’t tell people that!”

Blue continued looking critically at Marmora. _I think you should keep this one, Althos. He is more impressive than you are. Full of barely-repressed fire._

“Blue, you need to stop. You’re embarrassing.”

“What is it saying?” Marmora whispered to Althos, unable to look away from Blue’s gaze.

“Uh… nothing important,” Althos answered, glaring up at Blue. “She wants to know if you want to go for a ride. Right, Blue?”

_Oh I am not the one who wants to go for a ride._

“OH MY GOD STOP!”

Marmora looked over at him, confused enough by Althos’ humiliation to be willing to look away from Blue’s face. “Um… are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, she’s just a little… playful,” he explained, trying to ignore Blue’s laughter echoing through his head. “So do you want to? Flying in Blue is the _greatest thing ever_ , I promise.”

He could see the eagerness in Marmora’s eyes, but he hesitated. “Is that allowed? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Dude, I’m the Blue Paladin. I’m _supposed_ to fly Blue around. Otherwise she’d get lonely.”

“Okay, then. Sounds like fun.”

Althos grinned. Only a day ago, he was pretty sure “sounds like fun” would never have come out of Marmora’s mouth. He was glad he was such a positive influence.

“Alright, Blue! Open up!”

She did, making a comment about being inside someone else that he chose to ignore.

They got to the cockpit, Marmora all the while looking around curiously. “Do you think the other lions look the same on the inside? Like… the Red Lion, too?”

“I dunno. I’ve only really been inside Blue. The other Lions have their paladins already, but they’re on other planets. The only other one on Altea is Zarkon’s Black Lion, and I haven’t been in there.”

 _Would your boyfriend like to meet the Red Lion?_ Blue asked Althos.

“Blue, you’re seriously taking this too far.”

_I’ve seen his personality. He and Red will get along wonderfully._

Oh. Right. Althos kind of forgot that the Lions of Voltron could read a person’s personality just upon first meeting them. It was part of the whole “being worthy” magic of Voltron.

“Okay Blue, how about we go visit one of the moons?” Althos announced loudly as he sat in the pilot’s chair, trying to talk over her rumblings. “They have the best view of Altea,” he explained to Marmora.

_Right. To the Red Lion it is._

“BLUE!”

Too late. Blue sprang to her feet, launching rapidly out of her docking bay. Marmora was almost flung backwards, but grabbed hold of the back of Althos’ chair just in time. “Is she normally like this?!”

“No!” Althos shouted, grabbing hold of the controls. “She just… really likes you,” he finally admitted, gritting his teeth. “Blue, the ceremony for the Red Lion is _tomorrow_. We’ll get in a bunch of trouble!”

Blue did seem to slow down as she considered this. _Well we wouldn’t want that… but you and Red will just have to figure that out_.

Althos screamed in frustration as Blue continued around, flying into the Red Lion’s docking bay, completely ignoring him.

She landed, and Althos exhaled.

Marmora leaned over the chair, looking out through the display. “Why did she bring us to the Red Lion?”

“Yeah… remember what I said about the Lions having feelings? Well Blue’s usually pretty laid back, but sometimes she gets weird ideas in her head. Like really _really_ wanting you to be the Red Paladin."

Marmora looked up, at the stoic-looking Red Lion, standing face-to-face with Blue as if they were having a conversation. “Me?”

“She likes you,” Althos explained.

_I am merely moving your relationship along because you will not do it yourself._

“Blue, we’ve literally known each other for two days. Not even.”

_If Marmora is the Red Paladin, you will know each other longer._

Althos sighed, then rolled his eyes and stood up. “Well, I guess we don’t get a choice. Let’s go meet Red.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda still bitter that we never found out what the Blue Lion's personality is, because Lance interrupted Allura when she was explaining. So according to my headcannon, Blue is actually pretty relaxed, generally just wanting to make people happy. She especially likes to make her Paladin happy, even if she has to go against him in order to make things happen, lol. I made up the "playful" part, but I think it makes sense, given what we saw in the pilot episode, when she emerges from the cave and immediately starts doing crazy flight maneuvers. I think she was just messing with them lol
> 
> Also, I really think she's a little shit who ships the hell out of Althos/Lance and Keith/Marmora. Based very much off of a comic by cursemyshortarms.tumblr.com
> 
> Which, if you've seen it, will give you a bit of an idea of what Red is gonna be like in this story. Prepare thyselves.


	5. The Red Lion

_“Wait, King Alfor was the Red Paladin?! But Kolivan said that the Red Paladin was a Galra named Marmora!”_

_“Listen, I don’t know where Kolivan’s getting his information, but I would know who the Red Paladin was! I was_ there _!” Coran insisted, sounding the closest to legitimately angry that Lance had ever heard him._

_“Woah, Coran, calm down. Kolivan said that it was an old legend of how the Blade of Marmora got its name. Maybe he’s wrong?”_

_"Oh, you bet he’s wrong. I’ll prove it to you!” Coran announced, walking over to his control panel in the front of the room. “I’m searching the castle’s stored documents for any mention of the name Marmora from ten thousand years ago. I don’t expect to find anything, since if someone named Marmora existed, I would’ve recognized the name ‘Blade of Marmora’ as soon as we encountered them, and so would Allura!”_

_Coran furiously pressed buttons, and the computer’s findings flickered onto the castle’s display screens-- a collection of text, images, and video files._

_“No… this can’t be right…” Coran muttered to himself, looking at the screen._

_Lance frowned, squinting up at one of the images close to the center of the screen. “Huh. That’s weird. He kinda looks like Keith.”_

 

~~~~~ 

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

As soon as he stepped out of Blue’s cockpit Marmora could feel the Red Lion’s aura of power. It seemed to be watching him critically, as if challenging him to a fight, even though its face was unmoving.

As Marmora reached the floor and looked up at the two lions, he noticed that although Red wasn’t small by any means, it was noticeably smaller and less armored than Blue. The angles of its body were sharper, less bulky-looking. _No offense to you, Blue_ , he thought, just in case she could read his thoughts, since he wasn’t entirely sure how the Lions’ powers worked. It was just that while Blue was sturdy, Red was sleek. It was like comparing a tiger and a leopard, even though they were all called “lions”.

Althos arrived at his side, frowning up at Red. “I remember when we were inviting the Galra envoy to Altea, King Alfor said that Red was the most temperamental Lion. Blue just says that he’s really stuck on himself. You gotta _prove yourself_ or something like that.”

Marmora raised an eyebrow, looking up at Red’s expressionless face. “Do they not get along?”

“I dunno. They seem okay.”

Marmora reached up, resting a hand against the red hexagon-patterned energy shield that formed a huge sphere around the Red Lion. It was hard, unyielding. If there was any of the communication Althos and Blue seemed to share, he couldn’t sense it.

“So tomorrow I’ll find out if I can be your Paladin, huh?” he asked out loud, wondering if the lion understood him. “What do I have to do?”

The Red Lion gave him no answer. Marmora sighed, leaning against the energy barrier with one hand and turning turning back to Althos. “No answer. Tell Blue not to be too disappointed.”

And then suddenly the energy barrier vanished. Marmora lost his balance for a half-second, catching himself before he fell.

The Red Lion was moving, and incredibly quickly. It growled, leaning back on its haunches, and then sprang forward, mouth open.

“Woah, what are you--?!” Marmora cried, right before the Red Lion’s jaws snapped shut around him.

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

“MARMORA!”

It had all happened in a single moment, too fast for Althos to even react. One second Marmora was there, the next he wasn’t. The Red Lion was standing back up slowly, its tail flicking.

“What was that for?!” Althos shouted, banging on the metal of Red’s foot. “Spit him out! He didn’t even do anything! I knew you were picky but even if you rejected him, you didn’t have to eat him!”

Red didn’t even seem to acknowledge him. He sat back down, into the same position he’d been in when they’d arrived, as if nothing had happened.

“RED!” Althos shouted again. Getting no response, he gritted his teeth and ran back to Blue. “We’re getting him out of there, Blue!” he yelled, climbing into the cockpit. “Where do I have to hit to make him spit Marmora out?!”

Althos was so shaken up, he couldn’t even get ahold of the proper controls. “Come on girl!”

“Wait, wait, Althos! I’m okay!”

Marmora’s face appeared on Althos’ control panel. Seeing him, seemingly unhurt, Althos immediately relaxed. “Dude what was that?!”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess… it’s just how Red says hello.”

Across from his place in Blue’s cockpit, Althos could heard Red rumble in much the same way that Blue often did. It was almost like a purr.

On his screen, Althos saw Marmora’s face deepen to a dark violet. “And that’s how he says… something else.”

“Like what?”

“Nevermind. I’m in the cockpit. It looks pretty much the same as Blue’s only, well… red. But wow, I can feel him pulsing with energy. I think he really wants to fly.”

“Marmora, did you forget that the ceremony’s _tomorrow_?”

“What are they going to do? Tell me I _can’t_ be the Red Paladin?” Marmora answered, sounding immensely cocky.

 _So now he’s finally showing his true personality_. “Okay, I take back what I said about letting loose sometimes. It’s clearly made you go nuts.”

“This is what I came here for, Althos! Come on! Let’s have a race!”

“What?! No! King Alfor will kill me! If _he_ doesn’t, then Allura definitely will!”

“Why? Scared you’re gonna lose?”

Althos grit his teeth, clamping down on Blue’s controls. “No way! Fine, if you want a race, then you got it! Don’t get upset when you lose, though! First one to the next planet in Altea’s solar system is the winner.”

“Fine by me,” Marmora answered, grinning wildly before his dashcam winked out, and the Red Lion began to crouch, readying itself to spring into the air.

Althos shook his head. “Okay, come on, Blue. Let’s show this idiot who’s been partners longer.”

 

~~~~~

Princess Allura didn’t have any really strong opinions about the Galra pilots she’d met so far. None of them were bad, and, in the flight demonstration they’d given the eager Altean people, were very clearly capable pilots-- probably better than Althos-- but just didn’t strike her as particularly memorable.

Allura had an uncanny knack for being able to identify who would become a particular Lion’s Paladin. Zarkon as the Black Lion’s paladin had been obvious, but she had also correctly predicted that the Green Lion would bond with the Olkari engineer, Rollier, that the Yellow Lion would bond with the Balmeran priest, Darvax, and yes-- even that Althos would be the Blue Lion’s paladin. Not that she’d tell him so.

Because of this, she suspected, her father had encouraged her to spend more time than most interacting with the Galra pilots before the ceremony, to guess which one would be the Paladin.

So far, though, none of them had really stuck out to her. They were polite enough, if very formal and responsive to orders. It was a bit disconcerting, actually. She would request something of them, and they would do it immediately, even though it was usually an “if you want to” kind of thing. If any of them _wanted_ anything, they gave no indication. It seemed ill-suited for the fiery and spirited Red Lion.

Well, there _was_ the fifth pilot, but she hadn’t actually interacted with him personally yet. She’d seen him with Althos, though, during the dance. Seen the way her cousin’s eyes had appeared to follow after him like a moth to a flame. She’d known immediately that Althos was smitten, and had told her father as much. It wasn’t particularly shocking-- Althos fell in love with almost everyone-- but it was useful, in a diplomatic sense. It had been her idea, actually, to have Althos remain by Marmora’s side, and see what came of it. Despite her usual disdain for Althos’ way of doing things, Allura had to admit that Althos had an uncanny knack for helping people relax.

The downside of this was that she herself had seen very little of Marmora, and so could not very well discern whether he was appropriate for the Red Lion. What she’d heard so far was promising-- that he had a “discipline problem,” Zarkon had said, and the other pilots had grudgingly admitted that among them, he was probably the most talented flyer, even though they quickly mocked him for his size. Especially notable were the reports from the Altean soldiers that had seen Althos and Marmora fight in the training deck earlier that day.

Still, she couldn’t know for sure just on hearsay.

In the meantime, she and her attendant, Coran, had been spending time with the other Galra pilots, both gauging their skills and acting as guides in Altea.

Now, she and Coran were sitting out by the fountain, taking a break while the Galra pilots were preparing themselves for the night’s festivities.

She sat on the edge of the fountain, kicking her feet in the water thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about, Princess?” Coran asked, tinkering with the Olkarian cube that Rollier had given him as a parting gift. _What are you thinking about, Princess?_ it repeated after him, in a slightly roboticized version of his voice.

“I haven’t seen Althos _or_ the fifth Galra pilot, Marmora, all day. I know they must have woken up late, since they returned only early this morning, but half the day has passed already. Where did they go after training with each other?”

She pitied Marmora a bit, as the receiver of Althos’ unabashed flirtation. She was happy that she didn’t have to deal with it, since she was his cousin, AND still a child.

“Ah, well, young love. Could be anywhere by now!”

Allura made a face, kicking at her reflection in the water. “Althos _does_ have responsibilities, you know. Even if he ignores them most of the time.”

Before Coran could say anything in response, the two of them heard the sound of powerful engines approaching overhead. Allura groaned, not even bothering to look up. “Ugh, Althos is showing off with his Lion again.”

“No, look, Princess!” Coran urged, pointing up toward the mountains. “That’s not the Blue Lion! It’s the red one!”

“WHAT?!”

She jumped to get out of the fountain, almost tripping and ending up soaked. Sure enough, the Red Lion was blasting by at vicious speeds powerful enough to almost push Allura back into the fountain with the wind, doing somersaults and logrolls over the city as it passed.

Only a few ticks later, the Blue Lion followed, its engines howling as it fought to keep pace with the Red Lion.

Allura and Coran watched this, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

When both the Red and Blue Lions shot upwards, heading past Altea’s atmospheric constructs, Allura snapped her jaw closed, then shook her head to clear her thoughts, muttering, “Althos, you are in _so_ much trouble…”

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

Althos and Marmora landed their lions in the grasslands just outside the city, taking some time to cool down before climbing out of the cockpit and down to the ground.

“And that’s the _sixth_ time I’ve won today,” Marmora announced as he stepped into the grass. “I’m pretty sure you owe me something at this point.”

The actual race had lasted less than a dobash, not only to get to the next planet over, but also to return-- that’s just how fast the Lions were. Definitely the culmination of the universe’s engineering and magic.

Althos made a face, plopping down into the grass at Blue’s feet. “Only because you’re challenging me at things _you’re_ good at, not the things _I’m_ good at!”

“You’re the one who keeps taking the challenge,” Marmora pointed out, sitting next to Althos in the grass.

“That’s just because… I want to build your confidence!”

Marmora snorted, leaning back into his hands and basking in the afternoon sunlight. “Whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better.”

“So… what do you want?” Althos asked, looking away from him.

“Huh?” Marmora asked, not understanding the question.

“You said I owed you something for losing to you six times today.”

“Oh, that? I wasn’t serious.”

From behind him, Marmora heard a low rumble that reverberated in his mind, creating something vaguely translated to “ _ask him for a kiss_.”

Marmora looked over at the Red Lion in horror. Its mechanical face was as unreadable as ever, but he was absolutely certain that the voice had been his lion’s.

_Actually, a kiss might be enough for just one loss, but at six I think you should definitely go for more. I’d be happy to watch._

Marmora felt his face heat up, and he pointedly looked away from Red. “Um, Althos, does your Lion say really… uh… embarrassing things sometimes? Like… suggestive things?”

Althos nodded vigorously. “She’s been doing it to me all day. Why? Is Red giving you trouble?” he asked, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

Mamora snuck a glance at Red. “He’s very pushy.”

_No one will see you this far outside of the city. It would be rather pleasant._

“Well, there’s no way to shut it off,” Althos answered, leaning toward him and whispering, “but they can’t directly talk to you if they’re far enough away. That’s why I don’t spend all day with Blue.”

Marmora noticed, sitting next to Althos, leaning close to him that he smelled quite good. Had he smelled this good yesterday?

 _Almost as if you could eat him up_ , Red supplied. _Which I encourage_.

Marmora winced, silently pleading with his lion. _Would you be quiet for a bit so I can think?_

He waited for a response, but there wasn’t one. Finally, it seemed as if Red was willing to listen to him.

Not wasting the opportunity, Marmora focused on Althos’ closeness. “I don’t know what I want from you, but I definitely want something,” he breathed, revelling in Althos’ scent.

Althos started to pull away, but Marmora quickly grabbed his arm, holding him in place. Althos looked surprised, but didn’t resist.

Maybe he was just full of adrenaline from flying in Red. Maybe it was the realization that he wouldn’t have to leave Altea any time soon, since he’d been accepted as the Red Paladin. But whatever it was, it gave Marmora a surge of confidence.

“What do you want to give me?” he asked, testing the air.

“Well, to be honest, I’ve wanted to kiss you since… well, most of yesterday.”

Marmora’s heart jumped. He was crazy. He knew that Althos was as flirtatious as they came, and would probably abandon him as soon as someone more interesting came around. But he’d never really been that good at following orders, even if they came from his own conscience.

“I’ll take that.”

Althos’ eyes widened, and his breath hitched as he crossed the last bit of space between the two of them, pressing his lips to Marmora’s.

It was an odd sensation, that kiss. It was really such a small gesture, involving very little movement at all, but it flooded him with just as many endorphins as he’d had when he’d flown around the Altean moon.

To put it more simply, kissing Althos felt like flying.

Many times over the past couple of days, Marmora had described Althos as “addictive”, and that didn’t change. Red was right-- one kiss definitely wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't do the slow burn thing anymore. I love these two characters way too much. I know it's only been four chapters, but I give up. Have some idiot aliens in love, kiddos.


	6. Zarkon's Challenge

_“What? What are you talking about, Lance?! Keith isn’t a Galra… well I guess he is, isn’t he?” Coran remarked, agitatedly tapping a finger against the side of the control panel with one hand and stroking his moustache with the other. He stared up at the text on the screens, as if what he was seeing contrasted reality._

_“So… what does it say?” Lance asked, kind of as a reminder to Coran that he didn’t actually know Altean, so a translator was going to be necessary._

_“Hmm… it says that this ‘Marmora’ was a Galra pilot that came to Altea to bond with the Red Lion.”_

_“So… he_ was _the Red Paladin?”_

 _“No no, not that,” Coran answered, his brow furrowing further. “I most certainly remember it being King Alfor. But now that I think about it, I_ do _remember an envoy of Galra pilots coming to Altea.”_

_Coran looked up at the pictures on the screen, still tapping the side of the control pad. “And this fellow does look familiar. But it just doesn’t quite fit…” he shook his head, then jammed a command on his control panel. “Hello, this is Coran. Lance and I have encountered a problem in the control room and I believe I need all hands on deck. Allura, that means you, too, if you would.”_

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

How many kisses does it take to fall in love? Althos was pretty sure it was just one, but he needed more evidence in order to be absolutely certain. Sitting there in the Altean grass, he kissed Marmora more times than he could count, wrapping his arms around Marmora’s small waist and back, pulling him close, winding his fingers through the coarse purple hair around his face. It was amazing and exhilarating and over all too soon.

“I _knew it_.”

Althos jerked away from Marmora, wondering how he hadn’t heard Allura approach _at all_. The young girl was now glowering over them, her hands on her hips. Just over the hill sat a travel pad, piloted by Allura’s attendant, Coran, who was still trying to detach himself from the safety harness, tripping over the wing in the process.

Across from him, Marmora appeared to be having a meltdown, his face turning deep purple as he struggled to his feet. “Princess Allura! We haven’t formally met, so this is, um, really awkward, but…”

Allura sighed, shooting Althos an icy look that rivaled his Lion’s freezing powers, and then looked up at Marmora. “Don’t apologize, Marmora. I assure you, I am not angry.” She glared at Althos again, pointedly adding, “at _you_.”

Althos got his feet, wondering if there was a way to appease Allura. “Okay, if you’re talking about the Red Lion, it was all Blue’s idea. _I_ was just going to take Marmora to visit the second moon. But she took us to Red instead.”

“Regardless of whose _idea_ it was, you should have a little bit of sense!” Allura shot back, crossing her arms. “What am I supposed to tell the other Galra pilots who patiently waited for the ceremony, only to never even get the chance to bond with the Red Lion?”

“Again, I apologize, Princess,” Marmora attempted.

She sighed, relaxing. “Although, I suppose, patience isn’t something that quite suits the Red Lion. Please don’t worry yourself, Marmora. I am here to yell at my cousin, not you.”

Marmora spun, looking wide-eyed at Althos. “The Princess is your cousin?!”

“Well, yeah, I _am_ a duke, after all.”

“And a fine duke you are, forgetting your job of surveying the city in order to charm a foreign diplomat!” Allura scolded.

Althos paled. _Oops_.

Allura glared at him, then loosened as she looked back at Marmora. “Look, I admit, I don’t understand romance, much less my cousin’s obsession with it. But I do congratulate you for your bond with the Red Lion. Sincerely, I do. I was merely… startled. I’ll arrange for the ceremony to be changed, so don’t worry.”

Althos fidgeted with his hands, stepping closer to her in order to whisper, “so… about what you saw when you got here… can you forget you saw that?”

Allura looked up at him with a wicked smile. “No, unfortunately that image is burned into my memory. Why? Are you ashamed? Marriage has long been a way of arranging diplomacy with other worlds. This way, my father does not have to worry about you so much.” She reached up, grabbing him by the ear and whispering, “and if you mess this up, I’ll tell Marmora about every single person you’ve ever had a crush on.”

“Got it,” Althos squeaked.

Allura spun, heading back to the travel pad just as Coran arrived next to her. “Coran, we’re leaving. Althos, _do_ try not to forget your duties in the future.”

Coran visibly twitched at having to leave, since he _just_ got there, but obeyed nonetheless.

As they got onto the travel pad, Coran reminding Allura to wear her safety harness, and then shot off toward the city, Marmora turned to Althos. “Is she really only twelve years old?”

“Don’t worry. I forget sometimes, too.” Althos sighed, looking at where the sun sat in the sky. The moment, as wonderful as it had been, had been completely ruined by Allura’s arrival, and Althos had absolutely no feel for how to return to it, as much as he might like to. “We should head back.”

“Yeah, probably, Marmora answered. “I’ll meet you back at the castle.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna stop in town first, to do my job before Allura threatens to kill me. Then I’ll be there.”

They parted awkwardly, both of them clambering inside their Lions. When Althos was sitting inside the cockpit, Blue began talking again.

 _I am proud of you_.

“You got me in HUGE trouble, Blue.”

_In the short term. But you don’t really regret it, do you?_

Althos watched as the Red Lion came to life, springing up into the sky.

“No, I guess not.”

_Good. I would be disappointed if you did._

“Why is my love life so important to you?” Althos asked exasperatedly.

 _Because it is important to_ **_you_ ** , she answered, as if it were obvious. _You and I share an intimate bond, my Paladin. I can sense your emotions even before you yourself know them, and of all of them, I wish for your happiness above all else._

“Aw, thanks Blue.” Althos was genuinely touched. Strengthened, he took hold of the controls. “Now, let’s go visit town so we can see Marmora again.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

When Marmora returned to the castle, his fellow pilots-- and Zarkon-- were waiting for him in the Castle of Lions’ main foyer. They didn’t look particularly happy.

“I’ve been chosen as the Red Paladin,” Marmora cautiously announced. He figured they probably already knew that by now, but it was probably best to say it nonetheless.

“The Red Lion may have chosen you, but I have not.” Zarkon’s voice echoed in the foyer, making him sound louder than he actually was. “You have a test to pass before I accept you as my right arm,” he declared.

“Whatever it is, I can pass it.” Marmora’s confidence still burned in him, as if his bond with the Red Lion was supercharging his soul.

Zarkon’s face didn’t move. He stepped back, gesturing to the few Galra pilots behind him. “If you can best your four comrades in combat, only then will I acknowledge the worth of a disobedient runt.”

His words grated on Marmora’s ears. He hated the word “runt” more than anything. It had followed him his whole life-- to the Galra, “runt” wasn’t just a comment about his height. It didn’t just mean “small”. It meant “weak”. Useless. Worthless.

Marmora quickly pulled his sword out of its sheath on his back, bracing himself. “I’m ready.”

 _Four of the Galra’s best pilots at the same time_ , he thought, gritting his teeth. _This isn’t gonna be easy_.

They charged forward, blades flashing blue-white under the castle lights. This wasn’t like his fight with Althos on the training deck-- these guys weren’t carrying training swords, but razor-sharp blades. If Marmora misstepped, he could actually die.

He dodged the first blow, parrying the next, from the opposite direction. He had to move incredibly quickly to keep track of his four opponents all at once.

Dodge. Parry. Block. Look for an opening-- there. He swung with the back of his blade, hitting Elznef in the hollow between his neck and shoulder blades, bringing him down.

This was how Marmora fought-- not having strength or size on his side, he’d long ago found a way to use his stature to his advantage-- relying on speed and agility to take down opponents quickly. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Around them, concerned Alteans had begun to gather, watching as the Galra soldiers fought. Of course-- they were fighting in the middle of the foyer, where people were constantly passing through.

Zarkon stood stoically at the foot of the steps, watching the fight without showing a hint of emotion.

 _It’s just like when I was a kid_ , Marmora thought, even as he was being attacked from two sides. He swung around, using his blade as a decoy in order to grab one of his opponents in a choke hold. _That street scuffle, four kids against me. Zarkon just stood there and watched, just like he’s doing now_.

He felt the soldier struggling in his grip finally go slack, and then used him as a shield against the two others, his armored flight suit stopping the sword from doing much damage. Then he let go of the unconscious soldier, snatching the blade of one of his attackers and pulling, ignoring the burst of pain when the edge cut into his palm. His opponent was pulled off-balance, tipping forward. He caught himself quickly, but that moment was all Marmora needed. He kicked him square in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and dropping him to his knees.

With three of the four pilots out of the fray, Marmora could deal with the most experienced one-- his superior officer at the military academy, Garen. He was Zarkon’s current right hand, and one of the most loyal Galra. He was also viciously intelligent, known for being able to predict what the recruits were thinking. It had been Garen that Marmora had expected to become the Paladin of the Red Lion.

Even just during this fight, Garen had been the one Marmora had been keeping in his sight at all times, who was the most likely to jab at every single opportunity.

Marmora didn’t wait for Garen to attack. He went on the offensive immediately, testing the strength behind Garen’s parries. Marmora attacked and dodged, again and again, hoping to find an opening.

There was none. Garen was a well-trained soldier, his timing perfect, his grip perfect. In an ordinary training battle, he probably would have won. But Marmora had one last trick up his sleeve.

 _His_ blade was Luxite.

He pulled back, giving the sword as much arc as possible as he swung toward the flat of Garen’s blade, putting all of his strength behind the blow. If he failed this, Garen would have the perfect opening to stab him in the chest as Marmora struggled to lift his sword again, so it was now or never.

Their blades met with a resounding _clang_ , loud enough to grate on his eardrums.

Garen’s Galra blade shattered from the impact, the top half of the blade flying toward the watching Alteans.

Without changing expression at all, Zarkon caught the broken shard of metal with his bare hand, then let it clatter harmlessly to the floor.

Marmora didn’t waste the moment of Garen’s defenselessness, kicking his legs out from under him and pinning him down with a foot on his chest, then pointing the very tip of his blade at Garen’s throat.

Breathing heavily, and with his senses on high alert, Marmora stared down at Garen. The room was deathly silent, despite all of its occupants, the rasp of Marmora’s panting the only sound echoing against the high ceilings.

“Marmora? What’s… going on?”

Marmora looked up, seeing Althos standing in the shadow of the castle’s entrance, staring at him in wide-eyed confusion.

Now that the battle was finished, Marmora allowed himself to take in the whole scene, trying to figure out what Althos was seeing right now. Alteans and other life forms lined the far walls of the room and against the sides of the stairway, staring open-mouthed at Marmora in the center.

Littered around Marmora were the crumpled forms of three of his fellow pilots, and under his boot was the fourth, held down by the threat of being pierced by Marmora’s blade. “Althos, this is…”

“Well done, Red Paladin.”

Suddenly Zarkon was next to Marmora, setting a hand on his shoulder almost paternally. It was chilling, Zarkon’s ability to move quickly and silently when he wanted to.

“You haven’t failed my expectations, Marmora. I knew you were a capable soldier since I saw you fighting on the street, ten years ago.”

Marmora gasped, looking up at Zarkon’s glowering face. _So he remembers?_

Slowly, Marmora relaxed, pulling his sword away from Garen’s throat. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline, even as he removed his foot from Garen’s chest and slid the Luxite blade back into its sheath.

He turned back to Zarkon, bowing his head slightly. “I’ve completed my task, sir. Is there anything else you need in order to acknowledge me as the Red Paladin?”

Zarkon’s lips twitched-- the first sign of expression Marmora had seen from him in a long time. “No. That will be all. Vrepid-Sa.”

“Vrepid-Sa.”

Marmora nodded and then slipped out from under Zarkon’s hand, turning to run to Althos, who still seemed to be trying to interpret the situation. “Zarkon was testing me,” he breathed, hoping his words were reaching Althos’ ears. “Everything’s fine now.”

Behind him, Alteans surged forward to help the injured Galra pilots to their feet, or awaken the one Marmora had knocked unconscious.

But even as they recovered, the shock didn’t leave Althos’ face. “You did… all of that… by yourself?”

“Yeah. Zarkon said that he wouldn’t acknowledge me as the Red Paladin unless I could fight the other Galra soldiers and win. What’s wrong?”

Althos’ eyes focused, finally seeming to really _see_ Marmora in front of him.

“Dude, remind me not to break up with you. You’re scary.”

Processing Althos’ words, Marmora couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh as the last of the nerves left his body, melting away as he embraced Althos, holding him tightly and breathing in his enchanting scent. “And you’re an idiot.”

 

~~~~~The Next Day~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

The reason for the specific date of the Red Lion’s bonding ceremony was that it was when the other two Paladins were arriving from their homeworlds. They arrived early in the morning, causing the Castle of Lions to erupt into a flurry of activity.

The noise of it had woken Marmora up early-- musicians warming up their instruments, huge machinery setting up equipment in the castle’s courtyard, and excitable attendants hurrying by the door to his room, chattering animatedly to each other.

Not that Marmora had really been _asleep_ , even then. The energy he felt from all of the previous day’s events still thrummed in his veins, keeping him from sleeping even as he tried to relax in his bed.

A lot had happened in a single day. Bonding with Red, kissing Althos, and fighting with his comrades. It made his struggles back on the homeworld seem boring by comparison.

He dropped his head against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Once the ceremony was over, he would officially be a Paladin of Voltron. He would make his family proud. He would be able to stay on Altea.

He turned his head, looking out the window at the early dawn. It was so warm here. He’d grown fond of the Altean sunlight since he’d come here, knowing that he would miss it once he was forced to return to his homeworld.

Only a day before, at this same time, Marmora had been reminding himself not to get addicted to Althos because he was so sure of the inevitability of having to return.

But now he didn’t have to. Now that all of the Lions had their Paladins, they would all remain on Altea in order to train together. He would move from the guest bedroom to the Paladins’ quarters. He would really, truly, be a part of a team.

He wondered what they were like-- the other Paladins. A Balmeran and an Olkarian. He and Althos formed the right side of Voltron-- mainly offense. The other Paladins must mainly form defense. He wasn’t sure what that meant for their personalities, but he was going to find out soon.

Keeping this in mind as he got to his feet, Marmora began preparing himself for the new day.


	7. The Paladins of Voltron

_The others arrived in the control room almost immediately, out of breath as if they’d run there. As soon as they had gathered, Coran spun theatrically to face Allura. “Princess, do you recall the names of the five former Paladins of Voltron?”_

_Allura blinked, seemingly unprepared for the question. “Of course. I knew all of them since I was a child.”_

_“Could you list them, please?”_

_“Coran, what is this about? I was expecting an emergency.”_

_Coran tugged at his mustache again. “There seems to be a disagreement between my memory and the Castle’s records. I would have dismissed it as corrupted data from the time Sendak took over the castle, but Kolivan has information that seems to match the castle’s,” he explained, with a nod to the Blade of Marmora’s leader. “Since you’re the only other one besides me who was alive at the time, I need you to verify which is true. So please. Could you list the race and name of all five Paladins, Princess?”_

_Allura slowly nodded, then took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “The first Paladin to bond with a Lion was, of course, the Galra leader, Zarkon, to the Black Lion. The second was the Green Lion’s Paladin-- an Olkarian named Rollier. Then the Blue Lion to my cousin, Althos-- an Altean. Then the Yellow Lion to a Balmeran named Darvax. And finally, the Red Lion to my father-- the Altean, King Alfor.” She opened her eyes, swallowing hard. “I had been trying not to think about them.”_

_Coran’s frown deepened, emphasizing the growing number of lines on his forehead. He turned back to the castle screens, tapping a few keys on the control panel so that one picture took up the whole screen._

_“I remember the same thing. But if all of that’s true… then who is this?”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

An event as big as the Red Lion’s ceremony required that he dress nicely. It was a formal occasion, and one that meant he was to be on his best behavior, or risk embarrassing King Alfor.

The other Paladins would also be there, formally accepting Marmora into their ranks. As one of them, Althos had been given a deep blue suit with silver detailing, to match the color of his Lion. To accompany it was a silver dangle earring and a matching belt.

He looked at himself in the mirror, vaguely wondering if the other Paladins were going to be dressed this nicely. Well, even if they weren’t, it would only make him look cooler. He supposed that Marmora was only going to be wearing his Galra armor, but that didn’t particularly matter. Marmora would be cute no matter what he wore.

Althos nodded to himself, then adjusted his coat and headed out of his room and toward the throne room.

The ceremony would be taking place in the huge plaza that one generally walked through in order to enter the Castle of Lions. Its original purpose was to test the prospective Galra pilots’ suitability for the Red Lion, first by having them compete in some kind of athletic game, and then having them approach it one by one and see which one he would accept. But that was a bit pointless now, since Marmora was already buddies with Red.

Instead, it was just going to be the first gathering of Voltron, where the other Paladins would welcome their newest team member, observe his bond with the Lion, and then pay their respects to King Alfor. After that it was just a banquet to socialize with some of the universe’s diplomats to Altea.

The actual ceremony wasn’t until noon, but the castle was spending the whole rest of the day preparing for it. Rollier and Darvax had already arrived, and Althos figured that he’d better go greet them.

He braced himself. Rollier and Darvax weren’t bad guys, they just had very… unique personalities. Darvax was okay-- he was nice enough, and seemed to really have a lot of respect for King Alfor, he just didn’t say… much. At all. And Rollier, well…

“Althos, twenty-second Duke of Altea, representing the capital city. Well known for his tendency to neglect his duties, his unlikely diplomatic success, and his dancing skills. Hello. It is good to see you again.”

Althos winced, but smiled at Rollier. “It’s been a while, buddy!”

“It has been exactly two Olkarian solar cycles, thirty-seven quintents, forty-nine dobashes, and fourteen ticks-- fifteen-- since we last saw each other.”

“Oh, was it?”

Rollier was _ultra_ detail-oriented. To the point where Althos was pretty sure “Rollier knows everything” probably wasn’t an overstatement. He could tell you how many buttons were on the outfit you wore three moon-cycles ago, including buttons in places you didn’t even remember there were any buttons. He could-- and would-- describe the shape of a tree using entirely mathematical terminology. He was a genius engineer, scientist, whatever. The most obvious indicator of that genius was his tendency to announce a tidal wave of facts almost every time he spoke.

Althos had a feeling Rollier couldn’t help it. He just… _had_ to. He needed to get through all the information in his head before he could reach what he was trying to say. It didn’t make him a bad guy, just a bad fit for Althos, who generally had an attention span too short to focus on what Rollier was saying long enough to hear what he was trying to get to.

Rollier tilted his head, looking curiously at Althos. “You have an increased base neurotransmitter level since we last saw each other.”

“Okay, one-- I don’t know what that means, and two-- how do you even _know_ that?”

Rollier held up a tiny orb sitting in the palm of his hand. It flickered with light, Olkari characters scrolling across its surface. “Neurotransmitters of Alteans include serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, noradrenaline, adrenaline, and many others. In Althos of Altea, there has been a spike in serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin.”

Althos’ eyes glazed over. “And that means… what?”

“Either you are in love, or you have gotten smarter.”

Althos blushed. “Oooookay, Rollier, that’s enough. Where’s Darvax?”

Rollier turned, pointing down the hallway. Approaching them was the Balmeran priest and pilot of the Yellow Lion, Darvax.

“Hey! Buddy! How’s the Balmera? Still all sparkly and stuff?”

Darvax nodded. He had a pleasant smile on his face, as always. Althos described him as a “gentle giant”-- he was _huge_ \-- bigger even than most Balmerans, and even towering over Zarkon.

“Lookin’ spiffy, Darvax! Good to know I’m not the only one dressed up, or I’d feel weird!” Darvax was wearing yellow robes accented with red-orange. They warmed up his brown-gray skin tone nicely.

Rollier was muttering to himself and playing with his orb. “It would make sense if the spike were short-term, but it appears to be continuous…” He, too, was dressed well, in emerald and lime green clothes that seemed to spiral around his spindly shape.

“Red Paladin?” Darvax asked, still smiling at Althos.

“Oh, Marmora? I dunno where he is.”

Darvax shook his head.

“You mean what he’s like? Uh, well…”

“Significant spike in oxytocin,” Rollier interrupted with a grumble, still looking at his orb.

Darvax looked out the window at the preparations for the ceremony, then turned his smile to Rollier. “Help?”

Rollier paused, looking up. “Oh, I suppose we should, shouldn’t we?”

Althos blinked, not sure what was going on.

“Come, Althos. Darvax suggests we Paladins assist in preparing for the ceremony.”

“Huh? Oh, uh… yeah, sure! They’ll get done a lot faster if we have the Lions help!”

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Everything seemed to be happening around him, but nothing seemed to be happening _to_ him. One of the Altean attendants had run him through the exact details of what was supposed to happen during the ceremony, but aside from that, it seemed like no one was willing to bother him. It was all too loud and too quiet all at once.

Again, he found himself with nothing to do-- just waiting for time to pass by. As he looked out the castle windows, he saw the Blue, Green, and Yellow Lions flying by, helping to carry heavy equipment to and from the plaza in front of the castle. So that meant Althos was busy. Actually doing some work.

Marmora bit his lip, turning away from the window. He knew he shouldn’t cling to Althos so tightly-- it was just that he really didn’t have anyone else to talk to. His fellow Galra pilots were still nursing their wounds from the fight, and were unlikely to talk to him until it was necessary. Otherwise, he didn’t know anyone on Altea.

He was wearing his dress uniform, which he couldn’t very well get dirty by sword training in it. So there went that idea.

Someone bumped into him from behind, and he turned to see a head of yellow-orange hair peeking out from behind both a levitating tray and an armful of stacks of bowls of food. “Oof! What lout is standing around in the hallway?!”

The woman peeked out from behind the bowls, and Marmora recognized her as the woman from the food stand.

“Oh! You’re Duke Althos’ new friend!” she remarked, shifting the bowls in her grip. “I heard you got to be the Red Lion's Paladin! Congratulations!”

Marmora smiled, reaching up and removing the top half of the stack of bowls from her arms so that she could actually see him without craning her neck. “Thank you. Do you… mind if I help?”

“Oh no, you shouldn’t!” she cried, but her arms were too full to try and take the bowls back from him. “This is your special day! You shouldn’t be helping with the preparations-- you should be relaxing!”

Marmora shook his head. “No, trust me, madam. I’d be more relaxed if I had something to do,” he said, grinning as the Blue Lion flew past the window again.

 

The day went by quickly after that. As he helped the cooks set up for the banquet (not with cooking the food-- just with carrying stuff out) the other Paladins were helping to set up the plaza.

Zarkon, for his part, retrieved the Red Lion, carrying it in the Black Lion’s claws and setting it gently down in the center of the plaza.

Marmora was so preoccupied that he actually lost track of time, until one of the cooks shouted to him that he had better go get in place for the ceremony. Startled, he dropped the sign he was supposed to place in front of a table of cups, forgetting about it as he ran to the castle entrance.

When the ceremony began, Marmora did everything he could not to mess up. One foot in front of the other. Past the assembled court magicians, who had helped create the Lions of Voltron. Past the castle staff, who were tasked with assisting the Paladins with their training and future missions. Past the King’s advisers, and the Altean nobles on either side-- apparently family members of Althos and Allura. Past the other Galra pilots. And then past the assembled four other Paladins, standing just in front of the Red Lion.

Althos winked at him as he walked by, looking even more charming than usual in his deep blue suit. It only made him more nervous.

Marmora took a deep breath, looking up at Red. “My name is Marmora, and I am a Galra soldier and pilot. I am your Paladin, Red Lion.” The words were exactly what he had been told to recite. Actually, the King’s adviser, an orange-mustachioed man named Coran (who had been the one accompanying Princess Allura the previous day) had told him that the bonding ceremony was technically unnecessary for the connection to the Lions. It was more for diplomacy than anything-- a signal to all those assembled that he was now a representative of peace, as one of the parts of the strongest weapon in the universe.

 _This song and dance is boring,_ Red announced in his head. _Can you hurry this up?_

He grit his teeth, remembering the importance of the formality. He, too, found it boring, but he wasn’t about to mess up something the Altean people had worked so hard preparing.

“From today on, I will fly with you.”

Red leaned forward and roared triumphantly, sending a shockwave across the plaza. Marmora stood fast against the wind it generated, then reached out to pat the front of Red’s face. “Good kitty.”

 _We’re flying together after this_ , Red insisted.

“Yeah. Once the banquet’s over.”

The plaza erupted in cheering. The other Paladins approached, all reaching out a hand.

“Welcome, brother,” Zarkon announced, his voice sounding warmer than usual. “Together, the five of us will form Voltron, to spread peace throughout the universe. It will be a heavy duty.”

Marmora nodded, laying his hand over Zarkon’s. “I am ready.”

Althos was next, his slender fingers sliding into the gaps between Marmora’s-- but so subtly that he doubted anyone else would have noticed. “I’d just like to let you know that I was the first one to approve of him.”

Rollier, Green Paladin, went next. “Marmora. Only child. No rank. Best in class in military academy on Galra homeworld. Known for his swordsmanship, strong will, and abnormally short stature for a Galra. Also showing a spike in dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin levels. Congratulations, Red Paladin.”

Then Darvax, the Yellow Paladin. “Yes. Congratulations.”

In that moment, energy surged through him-- not like adrenaline, but as if actual electricity were coursing through his veins. It was… the energy from the other Paladins. He could sense Zarkon, Rollier, Darvax, and Althos’ life forces, channeled through their hands.

They pulled away, and Zarkon nodded. “Now we are one. One being. One mind. One goal.”

“Right!” they all shouted.

Marmora turned, back toward the aisle from which he’d walked, facing Princess Allura, who now looked up at him, holding a white-and-red crescent moon. She held it up to him, her face intensely focused. “The bayard, weapon of the Paladin. Its shape will match your heart, as well as your own abilities and fighting style.”

Marmora took it, and as soon as he pressed the buttons on the inside of the grip, it flashed to life, creating a double-edged sword. “Thank you, Princess.”

The last thing they had to do now was greet King Alfor, who waited for them at the entrance to the castle. They went, stopping in front of him.

Marmora bowed his head. “I am ready to follow your lead, King Alfor.”

Back on his homeworld, there had been speculation as to why King Alfor himself was not one of the Paladins, even though he had been the one to create them. When Marmora had asked, the explanation Coran had given him was this:

Voltron was intended to be a symbol of peace-- that was why they had searched for Paladins from many worlds. It especially represented the close friendship between the Galra and the Alteans-- two of the most technologically advanced and magically powerful races in the universe, but with very different cultures. Alfor’s influence over Voltron lay in that his life force was connected to the Lions. He could sense them, communicate with them, without being an actual Paladin. In that way, he was practically a “sixth Paladin”-- and this balanced Voltron between the Galra and Alteans. With Alfor’s influence, there were two Alteans-- him and Althos-- and two Galra-- Zarkon and Marmora. In this way, Zarkon led Voltron from within, and Alfor led Voltron from without.

It was this same man that smiled down at Marmora now, the same way he had smiled while helping Marmora to his feet after he had danced to the point of exhaustion.

“The Red Lion is temperamental, and difficult to master. He will test your abilities constantly. However, if you can match him, he is the fastest and most agile of the Five Lions, and will willingly come to your aid when it is necessary. From henceforth, you, Marmora, shall be its Paladin.”

He reached out to shake Marmora’s hand, leaning closer, just for a moment, saying in a low voice, “and I thank you for tolerating my nephew.”

Marmora flushed purple, trying to prevent himself from immediately looking at Althos. “Yes sir.”

 

After participating in the festivities going on the first day he’d been there, Marmora had been expecting another installment of that joyful chaos, but instead it seemed as if the banquet was a truly formal affair. There was no dancing going on, and the banquet hall was filled with well-dressed representatives from all across the universe, milling about and chatting with each other.

Many of these well-dressed representatives were eager to offer him their congratulations, asking him so many questions that they blurred together in his head. It was all very overwhelming. Marmora wasn’t exactly trained on how to be a diplomat-- what to say and what not to say. He was a pilot. A soldier.

“I was a bit sad that we were unable to see your skills in any games, like we did the other Paladins!” one of them was saying.

Marmora tried to think of what to say, but someone else spoke for him. “We figured if we let Marmora show off, the whole audience would leave the planet feeling ashamed of themselves.”

Marmora looked up, his heart jumping when he saw Althos next to him.

The representative laughed. “Is that so, Duke Althos? I had high expectations after seeing your prowess. What were your tasks for the Blue Lion, again?”

“Shooting range and a swimming race. I was lucky the swim race was only other Alteans. If a Lilirian had been in that race, I would’ve gotten my butt kicked!”

The representative, a fish-like man with long silver hair, huge black eyes and blue skin patterned with green and purple marks, laughed again. “We’ll just have to see about that next time you visit Liliria.”

“You bet.”

The Lilirian man nodded and walked away, and Marmora turned to Althos. “You look nice. Not as sloppy as usual.”

Althos put his hands on his hips, leaning down so that he was looking Marmora in the eye. “Excuse you, I am not _sloppy_ , just casual. I like to be _cool_ and relaxed.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face in an extremely attractive gesture. “I can’t look this fabulous _all_ the time, or I’d have EVERYBODY falling in love with me!”

“We can’t have that,” Marmora replied sarcastically.

Althos winked at him, relaxing his arms. “The only reason I don’t wear a dress to these things is because the King’ll kill me if I outshine his daughter.”

Marmora raised an eyebrow. “You wear dresses?”

“Yeah, if I feel like it. They do wonders for your waistline,” he explained, gesturing to his hips for emphasis.

Laughing again, Marmora looked out at the banquet hall. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do in formal occasions like this.”

“Neither do I. Just eat some food and roll with it.”

“I’m not hungry,” Marmora replied, but his stomach betrayed him, letting out a low growl that rivaled Red’s. “Okay, so I am.”

“So go eat!” Althos insisted, pushing him toward the banquet table Marmora had helped set up.

Marmora began taking a plate, looking at the long arrangement of food. The main problem was that he didn’t know _how_ he was supposed to eat it. There were a lot of foods they didn’t have in the Galra Empire, or if they did have it, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to eat it the same way. He didn’t want to look barbaric.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked over to see the Green Paladin, Rollier. “Alteans gather food from all across the universe. Lilirian saltweed crackers: five grams of sodium and forty-five heat units per cracker. Eaten with the hands.”

Marmora blinked, setting some of the crackers on his plate, then pointed to what looked like a bowl of multi-colored noodles. “What about this?”

“Arusian Vretna. Shoulder cut, served with its boiled crests. Protein: eleven grams. Fat content: twenty-seven percent, on average. Four-hundred eighty heat units per serving. Eaten with a spork.”

Marmora felt relieved. One by one, he pointed to a food, listening to Rollier’s explanation before putting it on his plate. Pretty quickly, he had a full meal.

“You know a lot, Rollier,” Marmora remarked, and Rollier smiled, apparently pleased.

He went to the end of the table and picked up a glass of purplish-red liquid, holding it out to Marmora. “Volarian nuffleberry juice. Drank in Altea as pain medicine. Offered at Altean banquet because it is delicious to Galra and Olkari. Olkari drink it as a sign of friendship. Here: drink, friend.”

Relieved, Marmora accepted the glass. “Thanks, Rollier. Don’t know what I would have done without you.” He took a sip of it, delighted by the taste. It was sweet but fragrant, washing easily down his throat. “This is good!”

He turned back to the room, noting that Althos had been surrounded by various diplomats, and was still smiling easily, blending into the crowd.

Althos really was an excellent diplomat, no matter what he thought. Just by being himself, without any real effort, he drew people to him.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Marmora asked Rollier, who was nibbling on some of the saltweed crackers.

“Of course. From today on, Marmora will be a team with Zarkon, Althos, Darvax, and Rollier.”

They sat at one of the banquet tables, next to the Yellow Paladin, Darvax.

Marmora quickly relaxed, listening to Rollier listing off factoids and eating his food and drinking his nuffleberry juice. He drained his glass, and then got another. And then another, feeling much less tense than he had when he had first arrived.

He felt warm, and he tugged at the collar of his suit. Althos was friendly. He had lots of friends. Did Marmora have friends? ...yes! He was friends with Rollier now! And… Zarkon!”

He took another glass of the nuffleberry juice and offered it to Zarkon, looking up at him. “Rollier says that the Olkari drink this juice as a sign of friendship,” he said, hoping that such a gesture would soften the leader just a bit.

Zarkon peered down at the liquid, then laughed, entirely unexpectedly. “Volarian nuffleberry juice? I hope you did not consume the stuff, Marmora. It acts as an aphrodisiac to Galra.”

Marmora searched his brain, trying to remember what “aphrodisiac” meant, but couldn’t think of it.

“Alright, I’ll drink it myself. But, um… sir?”

“Yes, Marmora?”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?”

Zarkon’s eyes gleamed. “No. That is unnecessary.”

This was good. Zarkon was the only one Marmora still felt uptight around, but if he was allowed to stop thinking of Zarkon as a commanding officer, then maybe he’d finally be able to feel comfortable.

This was good. It was very good. What else was good? Hmmm… Althos was good.

Marmora downed the drink, feeling warm again. He suddenly remembered sitting in the grass at Blue’s feet, kissing Althos. He liked that feeling. He wanted that feeling again.

Where was Althos?

Talking to King Alfor and Princess Allura, laughing at something Allura had said.

Marmora quickly went to him, losing his balance as he got close, having to wrap his arms around Althos’ shoulders in order to catch himself.

“ ‘m sorry,” he grumbled.

There were too many people around. He felt so warm. “King Alfor, can I borrow Althos for a... while?”

Alfor nodded, and Marmora grabbed Althos’ hand and pulled him out into the cool early evening air. It felt nice on Marmora’s overheating skin.

“Hey, Marmora, are you okay? You’re acting funny.”

Marmora wrapped his arms around Althos’ waist, pulling him close, feeling the other boy’s warmth against his chest, which was pleasant even though he was so hot. “I’m fine.”

He reached up and ran a hand through Althos’ white hair-- something he’d wanted to do for a while. It was silky, unlike Galra fur, running through Marmora’s fingers like water. Under it was a silver earring, which glimmered in the light from the party.

The contact made Althos stiffen, and he grabbed Marmora’s hand, gently pulling it away from his face. “You smell like nuffleberry juice.”

Marmora nodded, thinking about how easy it would be to kiss him.

Althos closed his eyes, huffing in disappointment. “Aw man, that’s messed up. But I can’t do anything about it now. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“Huh? But I promised Red I’d fly with him after the banquet,” Marmora complained, leaning against Althos’ collarbone and pointing across the plaza at his Lion.

Althos shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not like this you aren’t. Nuffleberry juice makes Galra do weird things. I can't believe they even had it at the banquet without some kind of warning!"

Marmora thought about it. Had there been a sign? He didn't recall seeing one when Rollier had handed him the glass.

Then suddenly he remembered the sign he'd dropped when he'd been hurrying away toward the ceremony. It had said "WARNING TO GALRA: Volarian Nuffleberry juice. Do NOT drink."

Oops. Well, too late. “Like what?”

Althos was getting redder and redder. “Like… saying yes to pretty much anything I ask you to do.”

Marmora thought about it. Althos was right. He probably _would_ do anything Althos asked him to do right now. Why was that? Whatever. It wasn’t important.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Althos pushed Marmora away, holding him at arm’s length. “Look, ‘yes’ doesn’t mean much if ‘no’ isn’t even an option. So come on. You should go back to your room.”

Marmora felt so frustrated. He was so warm and he wanted to feel that rush again. He didn’t want to sleep.

“I’ll only go if you go with me.”

Althos stopped, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Okay, okay! But I’m not going to do anything until the drink’s out of your system.”

Marmora looked up at Red, wondering why the pushy Lion wasn’t saying anything perverted.

 _You’ll know in the morning,_ Red answered, but stayed still.

Marmora dragged his feet even as he followed Althos through the hallways. They were back at the Galra’s guest rooms, but as Marmora was about to go into the room, he stopped. “Oh, that’s right. I have the Paladin’s room now… where are those?”

Althos huffed again. “Your room’s right next to mine, then. Come on.”

Back up through the castle, and down another hallway. Althos pointed to one of the doors. “Okay, now go in there and sleep. I’ll come in and check on you in the morning, but not before then.”

Marmora grimaced. “Can’t I sleep with you?”

Althos jumped, eyes wide. “N-no! At least, not yet. I mean, m-maybe tomorrow, when you have that _stuff_ out of your system. So just wait, okay?”

Waiting felt frustrating, but Marmora nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Althos.” He tried to kiss him, but Althos stopped him with a hand on his forehead.

“Nope, none of that either.” He leaned sideways, kissing Marmora’s cheek. “Once you can think clearly, I promise I’ll do whatever you want.”

He let go of Marmora, then disappeared into his own room. Still feeling frustrated, Marmora went into his new quarters, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep almost immediately, even though he felt so warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, about Rollier and Darvax' personalities-- I wanted to make them noticeably distinct personality-wise from Pidge and Hunk, as a way of showing that they are NOT the same person. Only Lance and Keith are reincarnations, not EVERYONE. Thus the two very separate, if extreme, characters were born.
> 
> Second, anyone who's read my other Voltron fanfic, "Inhibition", will probably recognize a lot of things in this chapter. If you've read it, you probably cringed (or celebrated) when you read the words "nuffleberry juice", lol. So my basic summary of nuffleberry juice is that it works differently on different species. For Alteans it's medicinal (painkiller). For humans its alcohol, so it's a depressant that removes inhibitions. And for Galra it's an aphrodisiac-- extremely dangerous for such a serious race. It's pretty much a love potion. Also recognizable from "Inhibition" is the mention of the planet Liliria.
> 
> *for any misconceptions generated by the end of this chapter about whether there will be smut in this story: there will NOT be (sorry to disappoint). I guess it's more of a personal statement about a lot of the Yaoi I've read, lol. Where one of them uses alcohol as an excuse to take advantage of the other. I hate that, so I have Althos being a reasonable person here, and refusing gracefully. Ten points to Altea.


	8. Leaders

_Lance nudged Keith, pointing up at the screen and asking, “doesn’t he kinda look like you?”_

_“If this is another ‘Keith is a Galra’ joke, it’s not funny,” Keith replied, scowling. He crossed his arms, pointedly turning away from Lance. “So, who is he? We don’t know what’s going on, Coran, so you’re going to have to explain it to us.”_

_“Oh, right!” Coran switched the screen back to the compilation of documents. “Lance? Can you tell them?”_

_“Oh, yeah!” He quickly summarized what they’d learned in the past few minutes: the Blade of Marmora, the first Red Paladin, and King Alfor._

_“Right,” Coran said as soon as he was finished. “It says here that Marmora was quite the celebrity. He was rather popular as the Red Paladin, and had an intimate relationship with Allura’s cousin, Althos.”_

_“Althos?” Allura repeated, her face whitening. “No… no, I do remember that. Althos was very flirtatious. He was quite similar to Lance, actually. It seemed like he was attracted to anything that moved, fairly often. But he stopped when he became deeply involved with... a Galra pilot. So many people… thought that they were the greatest symbol of the alliance between the Galra and the Alteans, even more than Voltron.” The more she spoke, she more she sounded as if she were in pain. She frowned up at the screen, looking more and more confused. “But… why didn’t I remember his name until now? The Blade of Marmora should have been familiar. In fact, I remember that sword,” she added, pointing at the sheathed blade hanging from Marmora’s back in the picture._

_“Okay, so we have two versions of the story,” Pidge summarized. “In one, Marmora, a Galra, was the Red Paladin who betrayed Zarkon. And in the other, Allura’s dad is the Red Paladin. Which one’s true?”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

When he woke up in the morning, Althos quickly got dressed in his usual day-to-day clothes and then went to check on Marmora, just like he’d promised.

He knocked gently on the door, hoping he wasn’t waking up any of the other Paladins. “Marmora?” he whispered, pressing his ear against the door to listen for a response. “Marmora, are you okay?”

No answer. Maybe he was still asleep.

Althos pushed the button to open the door, and carefully stepped into the room, letting it shut behind him.

Marmora was still asleep, his face all scrunched up as if he was concentrating on something very hard in his dreams.

He didn’t really smell that much like nuffleberry juice anymore, so that was good. He would probably be fine when he woke up.

Althos turned to go, but Marmora grabbed his hand, not letting him leave. Admittedly, he wasn’t actually gripping that tightly, so Althos could have made him let go if he really wanted to, but… he didn’t really want to.

He went back, sighing. “You really know how to play with a guy’s heart, don’t you?” he muttered, sitting down next to the bed. “No, I take that back. I don’t think you even know you’re doing it.” He ran his thumb over Marmora’s hand, feeling vulnerable, even though he was the one awake. “I don’t know how you did it, but you got me.”

“ATTENTION ALL PALADINS OF VOLTRON, ASSEMBLE IN THE CONTROL ROOM IMMEDIATELY.”

Marmora jolted awake so suddenly that he hit his head on the top of his bunk, and just kept on moving. Althos, meanwhile, was panicking, halfway to the door but still being held back by Marmora’s hand.

Now conscious, Marmora seemed to slowly register the situation. He looked down at his hand, and then followed the attached arm up to Althos’ face.

“...Althos, why are you in my room?”

“I was just checking up on you! I SWEAR.” Althos immediately turned bright red, shouting, “I told you last night that I would! But you were still asleep, and you grabbed my hand when I tried to leave!”

“Last night? Last night I…”

Realization slowly started to dawn on Marmora’s face, followed by a deep purple flush. He dropped Althos’ hand as if it had shocked him.

“Oh no… oh my… okay, don’t take _anything_ I said last night seriously.”

Althos couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. “Nothing at all?”

“W-well, at least the part about sleeping together! I don’t want to sleep with you!”

Ouch. Althos kind of expected that, but still, ouch.

Seeming to realize this, Marmora blushed deeper, looking away. “A-at least, not yet. We haven’t even known each other for that long… and... well, I mean, _sleeping_ sleeping might be okay, but…”

Good enough. Althos felt better, getting to his feet. “Okay, that’s a promise then.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding! Like I said before, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. So hurry up and get ready! If we’re late, I’m pretty sure Zarkon might eat me.” Althos ran to the door, just in time to hear Marmora shout.

“The Galra do not _eat_ other races!”

 

“Good to see you’re all awake, in uniform, and on time,” King Alfor said as soon as they all entered the control room. “That is only the second time for you, Althos.”

“Did you _have_ to point that out?” Althos complained, rubbing the back of his head.

Alfor smiled, but turned to the group. “This was very simple test, and you all passed. The trials you face as Voltron will be more difficult.” He gestured to the control room around them. “While you all train to become a part of Voltron, this will be your base of operations for the next few cycles. As you are all expert pilots already, and many of you have been training with your Lions for some time, we will focus on team building. Marmora, this will exclude you for a few quintents, until you have full mastery of your Lion.”

Alfor turned to Coran, who pulled up a detailed schedule on the castle screen. “In the meantime, we’ll have the other four practice working as a team. You’ve all spent quite a while getting to know your Lions, so for now we’ll focus on your abilities on the ground. Over the next few days, you’re going to learn to protect each other, understand each other, and work with each other. Zarkon, I trust you can handle keeping these crazy kids in check?”

“Of course,” he answered, amusement in his voice.

“Right then! I leave it to you. We’ll be starting with the maze. Fairly basic, but a good place to begin. So, we’re off!”

He trotted off toward the doors, then stopped and looked behind him. “Well, come on!”

Althos realized that Coran wanted them to follow him, and was about to, but then paused and turned to Marmora. “You gonna be okay by yourself?”

“Marmora will be training with me today,” King Alfor explained.

“Oh! Okay then! I’ll see you later, Marmora!”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

As soon as the doors closed, Marmora turned to King Alfor. “Training with you, sir?”

King Alfor laughed. “No need to be so formal. I hope to be a friend to all of you. That is why I want to see you fly today. You are a capable pilot, but flying the Lions is different. I want to see for myself how you are able to bond with the Red Lion.”

“Okay…” Marmora hesitated. “What did you have in mind?”

 

King Alfor stood behind Marmora’s chair in the Red Lion’s cockpit, chuckling to himself as Marmora dodged debris. “Oh I think you’ve missed one.”

Marmora cursed and spun the Lion around, shooting the laser cannon at another flying rock. They were just outside of Altea’s atmosphere, getting pelted by acid rocks headed toward the planet. Marmora was trying to destroy them before they hit atmosphere.

“I forgot that on Altea it rains _huge rocks_ ,” Marmora commented through gritted teeth, putting Red through a barrel roll to avoid a massive asteroid bigger than the Lion himself, quickly blasting it with a tongue of flame.

King Alfor laughed. “You’re doing well! Now see if you can reach the other side of the cloud.”

Marmora steeled himself, pushing Red through the flying debris, jumping off of some of the rocks to propel himself forward without taking damage. Dodge. Bank left. Bank right. Front roll. Blasters!

He broke through the cloud, turning around to see the rocks plunge into Altea’s atmosphere, many of the larger ones exploding almost immediately. “What now?”

“I am curious about the Red Lion’s personality. Let _him_ guide _you_. Perhaps, he will take you home.”

Marmora bit his lip, staring out through Red’s screen. “Red? Where do you want to go?”

No answer.

“Red?”

Even when Marmora wiggled the controls, Red didn’t move.

“Now you’re not even talking? Are you mad because I promised I’d fly you yesterday and then didn’t?! Seriously?!”

As if in response, Red suddenly shot forward, away from planet Altea. He blasted through space, past the Altean moons, and even further out, and further out, to the edge of the solar system. Inside, Marmora clung tightly to the controls. “King Alfor said to let you _guide_ me, not drag me around by force!”

Alfor, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying the ride immensely. “So he _is_ quite temperamental, then!”

“Why is this so much fun to you?!” Marmora shouted, yanking the joystick all the way back to his chest. Red came to a sudden stop, throwing Marmora forward in his chair. He wasn’t sure how Alfor managed to continue standing there practically effortlessly.

Marmora took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It’s not like I _meant_ to break my promise. I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again.”

Red growled, and Marmora felt the controls loosen in his grip. “Alright, Red. Take me to your home.”

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Althos had actually wanted Rollier to guide him through the invisible maze. Say what you want about how much he talks, but his directions were so precise that you weren’t likely to run into anything. Instead, he was wandering blind, only guided by Zarkon’s voice.

Zarkon kind of freaked Althos out. He just seemed so… _serious_. Not like in a Marmora kind of way, where he just didn’t know what it was like to have fun, but could relax if he let himself. No, he was more a “feels like his eyes are boring into your head” kind of serious. Which made Althos all kinds of uncomfortable, since he hated being watched.

“So, boss? What direction should I go?” Althos asked cautiously.

“Do not refer to me as ‘boss’.”

“Oh. Um… squad leader?”

“That will do. First, show me the size of a regular stride.”

Althos stepped forward. “This is it. No, wait, that’s a little bit too big.” He pulled his foot back, then started again. “Yeah, that’s normal.”

“Good. Take one step forward.”

“Okay.”

“Turn left, and then take two steps.”

Althos did as told, finding Zarkon’s instructions surprisingly easy to follow. Not as precise as Rollier’s probably were, but took much less time to say. Looking over at Darvax, on the other side of the room, Althos could tell that he was moving much more quickly than his team member.

“So is this like a race?” Althos asked Zarkon through his headset.

“If you rush, you could die.”

“Right, right, but what if I ju-UGH!” Althos had just run face-first into one of the energy walls, squishing his nose.

“I did not tell you to move,” Zarkon said dryly.

Althos pulled back, rubbing his nose. “You did that on purpose!”

“You are wasting time, Althos,” he replied, practically growling.

“Yup! Okay, just kidding!” Althos squeaked. “Listening carefully from now on. That’s me, Althos the good listener.”

Zarkon sighed. “Turn right.”

 

Althos emerged from the maze, looking up at Zarkon. Except for the once, he hadn’t run into walls at all, getting through the usually-challenging puzzle remarkably quickly. When he and Allura had played with the invisible maze when he was younger, she’d let him run into walls _all the time_.

Althos smiled hesitantly. “Not bad... uh, Squad Leader! You know? You’re alright.”

Zarkon appeared not to be looking at him. “I’m glad you approve.”

“I mean, you’re kinda dark and scary, but not too bad.”

“You talk too much, but you can be useful occasionally.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment. Is that a compliment?”

Zarkon didn’t answer, only swept forward to congratulate Darvax, who had just emerged from the maze.

“Squad Leader? Zarkon? Dude, what is with people just not answering other people’s questions?!”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

They exited the wormhole to an empty, desolate red planet. No signs of life. Weak atmosphere. No water. Some volcanic activity.

“This is the Red Lion’s home?” Marmora asked King Alfor, looking down at the huge volcano that Red was hovering over, occasionally seeing lava boil out.

“Yes,” Alfor replied, “the Red Lion was the most difficult to construct, because unlike the others, this planet is unacceptable for almost all known life forms. However, the material of the Lions is unique only to very rare comets, one of which landed here. Right down there, in that volcano.”

“It landed _in_ the volcano?”

Alfor laughed. “Zarkon and I almost died several times trying to retrieve it. But it is worth it in the end.”

Staring down at the planet, Marmora tried to imagine what it had been like, but couldn’t quite grasp it. “It looks like my homeworld. Only… round.”

Next to him, Alfor nodded. “Yes, they are quite similar. Of course, even Galra is more liveable than this, but that similarity is why we thought a Galra pilot would be most suitable for the Red Lion.”

Marmora closed his eyes, feeling for Red’s consciousness. It had been a bit difficult, at first, but he was starting to get the hang of it. Red's mind was a bit like a bowl of hot soup: seemingly too warm to touch, but once you hold it in your hands, you find that it does not actually burn you, and you can get used to the heat.

“You must have been lonely,” he said to the Lion, once he could feel its energy in his head.

Red purred, and Marmora felt the energy pulse against his mind. _So were you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The maze scene is actually based off of an experience I had at a Voltron panel at Anime Milwaukee this year. Someone had to talk me through a maze (I had my eyes closed), and he started with the "show me how big a normal step is for you" and we went from there. Kudos to that guy, because I went through the maze like SUPER fast.


	9. Voltron

_The crew all began to debate, but the more Allura tried to remember, the paler she got, until she had to sit down. “It’s as if every time I try to think of Marmora as the Red Paladin, something prevents me from going further. Are you experiencing this, Coran?”_

_Coran nodded. “I believe so. I don’t think it’s quite as extreme as your case, though. But, then again, I wasn’t as close to Althos as you were. Practically siblings!” He turned back to the screens, frowning. “I’ll have to scan through the files and find out as much as I can about Marmora. It’ll take some time to get to the bottom of this, so I suggest everyone go back to what they were doing.”_

_“I want to help,” Allura insisted._

_“You won’t be much help if you strain yourself, Princess,” Coran argued._

_Pidge waved her hand in the air, pointing out that she had an idea. “Well, if you can’t remember the Red Paladin, then why don’t you just try to remember_ around _him?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You seemed to have some success thinking about Marmora when you thought of Althos instead. So maybe remembering the other Paladins will help you figure out what’s real?”_

_“Besides,” Hunk added, “we all kinda want to know. You guys never really told us what the other Paladins were like, except making us feel bad because we weren’t as good as they were. I know it’s sad and all, but sometimes talking about it is the easiest way to move on, y’know?”_

_Allura thought about it, then shook her head. “I will tell_ Lance _about it first. Only him. The rest of you should return to your duties._

_Lance blinked. “Wait, me? Really?”_

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

After getting a good look at the volcano Red had essentially been born from, King Alfor directed Marmora to fly to the next planet over. “Even in the most desolate of places, there is hope,” he said.

Red reached the planet almost immediately. It was quite beautiful, almost as much as Altea, but without the threat of atmospheric rock storms. Most of it was covered in shimmering blue water, and almost everywhere there was land there was green. White clouds swirled everywhere across its surface, sometimes flashing with light where they were particularly thick.

“This planet is far, far from Altea,” Alfor explained. “It is peaceful. Untouched. Its people-- humans, they call themselves-- will take some time before they are able to step into the soil of other worlds. But I believe they will be able to do it someday. I want to protect their ability to do so. That was why I helped to build Voltron.”

Marmora looked down at the blue and green planet in silence for a while, before quietly asking, “why are you telling me this? Why bring me here?”

Alfor put a hand on his shoulder. “You have a strong will, Marmora. It is not a negative trait, but one that may lead you astray. If ever someone demands something of you that you do not feel is right, I want you only to remember this planet. Even if that someone is Zarkon, or even me. You have good instincts. If you use them to help keep this planet, and the whole universe, safe, then you will have done right.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Althos flopped onto his bed, groaning. He hadn’t worked out this hard in ages, and every muscle in his body hurt. Training had gone on long into the night, from battling the gladiator to playing war games against the Altean elite squadron, two of which were still mad at Althos for being the one chosen by the Blue Lion, and so he was pretty sure they’d been targeting him.

He put one pillow over his head, quickly dropping off to sleep as the lights in his room sensed his change in brain activity and began to turn off.

Sleep. Sleep was the greatest thing in the world.

Someone knocked on his door.

He waited. Maybe if he ignored them, they’d go away.

They knocked again.

Groaning, he got to his feet and pushed the button to open the door. “Whaaaaat?”

Marmora stood outside, his hand still raised as if ready to knock. “I, um, well…”

Althos blinked against the sudden light. He was still mostly asleep, so his brain wasn’t registering things very well. “Marmora? What’re you doing here?”

Marmora was blushing, and then started talking rapidly, the stream of words taking a while to reach Althos’ brain, if they reached it at all. “I can’t sleep. I’ve been sleeping in the barracks in the military academy for so long that it’s weird to be in a room all by myself and it worked the past few days because I was so tired but today I have a lot of energy and--”

Althos, still tired, wrapped his arms around Marmora. “Yup yup, you can sleep with me.” He almost fell asleep right there, propping himself up around Marmora.

“I can sleep on the floor. It’s fine.”

“Nope.”

Althos stumbled over to the bed and flopped into it, burying his head in the pillow. “ ‘m not gonna make you sleep on the floor. Come here.” He sat up, arms out.

Marmora sighed, then sat down on the bed next to him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I won’t.”

He probably wouldn’t. Even as he closed his arms around Marmora’s shoulders, he was already falling asleep. So all he really remembered before darkness closed in around him was burying his face in the hair around the back of Marmora’s neck, holding the boy close to him. It was a nice feeling. Marmora was warm, and just a perfect huggable size.

He could probably kill Althos in his sleep if he wanted, but Althos didn’t think he would.

 

~~~~~Many Quintents (days) Later~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

The Alteans certainly hadn’t been gentle with their training. Once Marmora had been cleared to train with the rest of the team, they had dodged asteroids, changed the orbits of moons, tested battle drones, chased Altean stealth pilots around a Weblum’s debris field, and raced the shockwave of a supernova.

Now, they only had a few more training exercises left before they could finally form Voltron.

“Activating training helmets!”

Marmora’s face shield darkened, blotting out his view of the world. “Hey! Coran, what did you just do?!”

“This is a very advanced drill, that we saved as a bit of a “final exam” to test how well you’ve all bonded with your lions. You have to see through your Lions’ eyes. Feel what they feel, see what they see. All you have to do is nosedive straight into the ground, and then pull up just before you crash. Sounds easy enough. Go!”

Marmora was tempted to rip his helmet off (since he hated wearing it anyway), but he knew that would ruin the point of the training exercise. He pushed Red’s controls down, his heart hammering. He took a deep breath. He could do this. Just as long as he stayed calm he could--

“You still goin’, Marmora?” Althos’ cocky voice asked through his comm link.

His heart rate spiked again. “You know it. You?”

He wasn’t going to lose to that idiot. He adored him, but he definitely couldn’t lose to him.

“ _Going?_ I’m speeding up!”

Marmora pushed his Lion faster, definitely not wanting to lose to Althos.

“Must be getting close!”

“Must be.”

“You getting _scared_?”

“I AM NOT SCARED!”

His Lion crashed into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and slamming Marmora hard against the control panel. Judging by the pained groan coming from the comm link, Althos had done the same.

Marmora could feel Red’s irritation in his head. “To be fair, at least I didn’t run away.”

Red didn’t answer, but Marmora was pretty sure he was laughing at him.

He rubbed his forehead where it had hit his controls, and tried to gather himself. “How did everyone else do?”

“Squad Leader Zarkon was able to pull up exactly three point nine eight ticks before hitting the ground,” Rollier supplied over the comm link. “Darvax was next closest, at ten point four seven ticks. I am not comfortable with sensory input that cannot be computed; I apologize. I became frightened and resigned early, at twenty point seven six ticks. However, _I_ at least did not plunge my Lion into the ground.”

“Thanks Rollier,” Althos replied sarcastically.

“You are welcome. I do however, notice that your foolish descent into the ground was preceded by a spike in heart rate. Logically, this would be as soon as such a frightening activity as this began, but in Marmora this was unobservable until Althos spoke...”

“ _Thanks_ , Rollier!” Marmora urged, hoping that Rollier would get the hint.

“Alright, enough of that!” Coran announced cheerily over the comm link. “Althos and Marmora aside, you actually all did quite well! We’ll be moving to the next drill shortly, so hurry and dig yourselves out of the dirt and report to the training deck!”

“It’s a bit annoying to get bossed around by that guy,” Althos complained as he used Blue’s front legs to pull her head out of the dirt.

“Although somewhat unpleasant, Coran’s training appears to be effective,” Zarkon commented. “Even if he is more of a mother than a superior officer,” he added, amusement in his voice.

Marmora laughed. “The military academy would have been much easier if Coran were my superior officer.”

“What is this, Galra bonding time?” Althos complained. “Let’s just get back to the castle!”

 

“This is your last drill before we ask you to actually go out there and form Voltron.” Coran explained. They were all wearing a neural crown, apparently designed by Rollier. “Earlier, we tested your ability to bond with your Lion. Now, we’ll test your ability to bond with each other. Before you form Voltron in reality, I want you to first form Voltron _in your minds_.” He waggled a finger, an eyebrow raised. “But you can’t do it if you try to keep anything from each other! Feel each other’s minds. Your thoughts, memories, all have to become one.”

They closed their eyes, trying to focus. Marmora couldn’t really think of anything he was trying to hide from his fellow Paladins. Well, except for…

Almost immediately, the screen in front of Marmora exploded with the image of Althos dancing at the festival, and he quickly tried to think of something else. “Rollier, are you trying to dig for information?!”

“There is something I have been curious about for some time. I have gathered a great deal of supporting data, but have yet to confirm my hypothesis. This presents the perfect opportunity to reach a conclusion.”

“Get out of my head!” Marmora yelled, trying to knock Rollier’s consciousness away.

Suddenly, across from him, Althos’ screen flashed with the image of the two of them kissing in front of their Lions. He turned bright red, and the screen flashed through dozens of other images, but that one kept coming back.

Rollier suddenly jumped to his feet. “I KNEW IT! You two are romantically involved!” he shouted, pointing back and forth between Marmora and Althos.

Everyone looked up at the overly-excited Rollier. For Althos and Marmora, it was a look of utter mortification. Everyone else just looked a bit surprised.

“I see,” Darvax answered, looking at Althos. “Congratulations, friend.”

“This wasn’t… aren’t we supposed to be forming Voltron?!” Althos complained, his voice rising in pitch at the same rate that his face was rising in temperature.

“Is it or is it not true?” Rollier insisted.

“It’s true,” Marmora answered, feeling increasingly flustered. How many days had it been? He’d lost track. They had all been good.

“Ah yes. So the right side of Voltron will be quite strong then,” Zarkon commented, a laugh in his voice.

“Zarkon!” both Marmora and Althos shouted, but Zarkon only laughed.

“Coran, I think Marmora and Althos will need some time before they are able to think clearly. Perhaps we should rest a bit,” he suggested.

“O-oh, alright. I’ll just… go tell the King about this.”

“Coran, NO!” Althos shouted, chasing Coran out of the room. “DON’T YOU DARE!”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

After chasing Coran down and half-strangling him into promising not to tell King Alfor, Althos had returned to the group and had managed to focus long enough to passably form Voltron in the simulation. It wasn’t his best performance, but under the circumstances he should be happy he was able to accomplish anything at all.

But when night fell and everyone had gone to bed, he quietly slipped out of his room and headed down to his Lion’s docking bay. Blue waited for him there, still both laughing at him and angry with him.

“Okay, Blue, time to try again.”

_You are lucky I am not as easy to break as any of the flight pads you piloted as a child._

“Look, I’m sorry! I just… I _know_ I can do this, okay? I got caught up in the moment, that’s all.”

 _I suppose if you did not, I would not love you_ , she said as he settled into her cockpit. They shot up into the night sky outside the castle, almost crashing into the Red Lion on the way up.

“Woah, hey! Marmora, what are you doing up?!” Althos shouted through the comm link.

“I could say the same to you!”

“I don’t feel like I can actually form Voltron feeling like an idiot, so I had to try again,” Althos admitted.

“...yeah, me too.”

“Sorry for goading you on.”

“No you’re not.”

Althos felt a grin creep across his face. “No, you’re right. I’m not.”

“Shut up and nosedive, idiot!”

Althos pushed Blue into a plummet, laughing. “Oh don’t deny it. You love me.”

“Pushing your luck!”

 

And now all five Paladins stood in front of King Alfor, all of them wearing their full Paladin armor. It had been some time now since Marmora had bonded with Red and they’d first started training-- almost half a year. Each day hadn’t been easy, but they’d finally passed every test the Alteans could throw at them. They were ready.

“Coran tells me that you are finally cleared to form Voltron and go into battle,” Alfor announced, turning away from them to maneuver the display over his control panel. “And not a moment too soon. We will need you all out on the battlefield.” On the display, he brought up an image of a huge red insect-looking creature, which had a stinger above its carapace that tapered to a narrow point.

“These creatures have been attacking the Olgarian system in force. If they were all this size-- about the same as the Red or Green Lion-- they might be manageable. However…” the screen flickered again, to a huge battleship, armored with the same insectoid appearance. “As simple as these organisms appear to be, they have created vessels such as this. So far as we can tell, they are not sentient, but I advise caution.”

“So we are to go protect the Olgarian system from these creatures, then?” Zarkon asked, his helmet tucked into the crook of his arm.

Alfor nodded. “If you can do so without eliminating vast numbers of them, try to. We are not sure if they are more intelligent beings than we have been able to tell.”

They were dismissed, and they all headed to their Lions. As they flew, meeting in formation (like they’d practiced hundreds of times), they paused, all of them tense, excited, waiting for what would happen next.”

“For the first time, let’s accomplish our purpose,” Zarkon announced. “Let us form Voltron!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually went back and re-watched the episode just to make sure I got the dialogue from the nosedive scene almost perfect, so yes, that was on purpose. Credit to Voltron: Legendary Defender on Netflix.  
> If anyone has seen Macross Frontier, you might be able to recognize the "creatures" at the end of the chapter. :P
> 
> Also, for anyone weirded out that Zarkon is acting pretty cool, well... if he was the Paladin of the Black Lion, I don't think he was evil to begin with. There must have been something that turned him bad. And that's part of what this story is going to find out. :D


	10. Family

_After shooing everyone out of the room, Allura turned to glare at Lance, pointing at his chair. “Sit.”_

_Lance glanced at Coran, but he seemed extremely focused on the castle’s archives, even muttering to himself. Clearly he wasn’t going to be any help. Lance did as he was told._

_Allura collapsed back into the chair she was sitting in earlier (Shiro’s), then sighed and looked back at Lance, focusing._

_“Okay, I appreciate that you picked me and all, but, uh… why… did you pick me?”_

_“You remind me the most of Althos, so it seems appropriate I tell you about him first,” she explained. “Actually, now that I think about it, you are_ frightfully _similar.”_

_“O...kay?”_

_She pulled her legs up onto the chair, resting her elbows on her knees. “What Hunk said earlier about only making you feel bad about how good the former Paladins were… I assure you, that was not my purpose. They were not always well-trained elites. When they first became pilots, they were just as old as most of you are, and had just as many flaws. They had to work hard to reach their skill level by the time of the war. Althos most of all.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_She took another deep breath, seeming to have a hard time getting out the words. Not that Lance could blame her. It’s not exactly easy to think about a dead family member. “Althos always seemed overconfident, to the extent of foolishness. But I think he felt insufficient compared to the others. He didn’t have Zarkon’s talent for leadership or Darvax’s incredible strength or Rollier’s intelligence. But he flew with his Lion far more than any of the others. Not that he would ever admit it,” she said with a laugh. “But he was charming, in his own extremely annoying way. Alteans loved him. Galra loved him. I have no doubt that Marmora loved him.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Voltron really _was_ the most powerful weapon in the universe, if maybe it was because of the Paladins more than the machinery. It took Voltron to take out an insectoid alien battleship, but it took Althos and Zarkon to calm down the Olgarian peoples. It took Darvax to repair the damage the creatures had done to Olgarian infrastructure. And, probably most significant to the effort of all, it took Rollier exactly five quintents to figure out a way to communicate with the supposedly non-sentient aliens through their queen and negotiate a peace. It was almost absurdly easy.

Well, in retrospect it was easy. The actual practice of it wasn’t, really.

“What I don’t get is how when _I_ fight, I get all gross and sweaty, but Marmora still looks perfect,” Althos complained, brushing soot out of his white hair.

“Galra don’t _sweat_ ,” Marmora answered with an eye roll.

“WHAT?!”

“It is true,” Rollier answered. “Many furred creatures, sentient or otherwise, are incapable of sweating. Instead, they pant to release heat. This is why significant overheating is especially dangerous in furred creatures. As a note, Olkari _do_ sweat, but ours is much more oil-based than yours, and in fact makes our fur more luxurious. Observe.”

He held out his arm for Althos to feel, and Althos did so. “Oh wow, it really is pretty-OW!”

Rollier had used Althos’ concentration on his arm to lean over and jolt him in the abdomen with his bayard, and was now laughing jovially.

A brief scuffle followed, which Zarkon had to break up, stepping between the two of them. “We have barely left the battlefield and you are already fighting with each other.”

“Wait, does that mean that Zarkon doesn’t sweat, either?” Althos asked, eyes wide. “But he’s not panting _or_ sweating!”

“If you are tempted to find out, I will remind you that it will result in armed combat.”

“Yup, that’s not happening,” Althos answered quickly.

“Good.”

Marmora watched this entire exchange from behind, laughing to himself. Darvax was walking in front, pushing aside the rapid-growing Olgarian plants so they could return to the large, open space where they’d left their Lions.

While Zarkon talked to Alfor about completing the mission and returning to the Castle of Lions, Althos dropped back to Marmora, still nursing the “injury” that Rollier had given him.

“Anyone could see you had that coming,” Marmora quipped.

“Excuse me for _trusting_ the people I form a giant robot with.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t, then.”

Althos looked at him curiously. “Why not? I trust _you_ don’t I? But it’s not like you want to kill me in my sleep.”

Marmora bit back a smile. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Your snoring is horrible.”

“The couple is bickering again,” Rollier observed, sitting on the Green Lion’s paw.

“ _Always_ bickering,” Darvax answered with a nod.

“We are not _always_ bickering,” Althos answered indignantly. “We get along great!”

“Oh really? Then where did the scratches on your left cheek come from?” Rollier asked with a grin. “According to my scans, their residue material matches the general chemical composition of Marmora’s claws.”

Marmora felt his blood rush to his face, stumbling for an answer.

“He had a bad dream,” Althos answered, amazingly able to hold a straight face.

Rollier looked at him suspiciously. “Is this bad dream also responsible for the scratches on your back?”

“ROLLIER!” Marmora shouted, forcibly clamping a hand over the Olkarian’s mouth. “I swear if you don’t stop I’ll--”

“ _Enough_ ,” Zarkon commanded. “We are returning to the castle now. Everyone go to your Lions.”

 

~~~~~

*Althos’ POV*

When they got back to Altea, they _all_ went into the healing pods, whether they were injured or not. Althos was a bit sad to see the scratches go, but he knew they would probably get replaced. They weren’t really that painful, so he hadn’t worried about them. Mainly he just wondered how Rollier even _knew_ about them. But, then again, how did Rollier know anything?

Upon stepping out of the healing pod, Althos looked around, noting that the others were still recovering. He heard a beeping and looked down at the wrist of his armor to see that he had a message.

It was from his mother: “come home whenever you get a break. Your brother has exciting news.”

Once everyone else awoke, Zarkon discovered that he had also received a message, but his was from the Galra homeworld, asking that he be present for an important governmental decision. He’d agreed, insisting that Marmora stay.

“I would not want to break up my right side if it is unnecessary,” he explained with a smile. Before Marmora could answer, he’d swept out of the control room.

“In the meantime, you’ve all earned some rest,” King Alfor announced. “You have a few quintents to recuperate before your next mission. Rest. Train. Visit your families. Once Zarkon returns, you will be busy.”

They were dismissed, and the various Paladins dispersed. Before Marmora could leave, though, Althos ran down the hallway after him and caught his arm. “Hey, d’you wanna go somewhere with me today?”

“Where?”

“Uh… somewhere. It’s a surprise.”

“No.”

“Come on!” he pouted.

Marmora sighed, crossing his arms. “The first time I met you everything was a surprise, all on top of nasty culture shock. I’m not gonna let you pull me around anymore.”

Althos deflated, making a face at him. “Okay, okay, alright. I just wanted to go visit the park again. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Marmora paused, then nodded. “No, I’ll go. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Hearing that was a relief. If he had a day off, spending it with Marmora felt like one of the best things he could do. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he quickly leaned over and kissed Marmora’s cheek.

“What was that for?”

Althos shrugged, still smiling to himself. “Just because.”

 

They were barely to the park when Althos got another message, again from his mother: “King Alfor told me that you had a day off. You should come home.”

He was going to ignore it, but then his comm link went off. “Althos, my absolute embarrassment of a son who somehow became the twenty-second Duke of Altea’s capital city, if you don’t stop ignoring me and COME HOME, I’ll--!”

“Mother, chill!” Althos winced in response to his comm link, shrugging as Marmora looked at him curiously. “And how are you even contacting me right now? I thought only other Paladins and the Castle could use this line?”

His mother’s voice went quiet for a while, and then she replied, a bit sheepishly, “I talked your uncle into letting me contact you.”

“You wha-- MOTHER! Don’t tell me you blackmailed the King again!”

Across from him, Marmora was burying a laugh in his hand.

“It is _not_ blackmail. You need to stop overusing that word, Althos.”

“Not the point. What’s so important, Mother?”

“Now, you’re not going to get out of this by claiming you’re on a date with some ‘cute girl’, because we all know it’s never true. Your brother has something important to tell you and you’d better be here. If you don’t, I’ll suspend your allowance.”

Althos paled, choking a bit when the line went dead. “Uh-oh…”

“It’s fine,” Marmora said, even if he looked a bit disappointed. “Your family is important, right?”

Althos pushed his hair out of his face, sighing. “Aw, man, she didn’t have to be so pushy. I was gonna go and visit _tomorrow_!”

“It’s not a big deal. I can go back to the Castle.”

“What, no! You can come with me!”

“Huh?!”

Althos grabbed Marmora’s arm, giving him his best please-don’t-make-me-go-back-there-by-myself look.

There was a long silence, and then finally, “well… I guess… just a short visit might be okay.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Marmora looked up, up, up at a giant white mansion with huge spires and well-tended front gardens. It might have been small compared to the Castle of Lions, but it made his parents’ house back on his homeworld look like a run-down hovel.

Althos walked up the path through the gardens, announcing loudly, “Althos here! And I brought a friend.” He turned around, stretching a hand out toward Marmora. “There, you can come up now. That was just to turn off the security.”

“Security?” Marmora asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad. Just an energy field that will throw you back to the street if it doesn’t recognize you.”

Marmora swallowed nervously. “Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, my parents are pacifists,” Althos explained, opening the door. “Hey, I’m home!”

“ALTHOOOOOOOOS!”

Two white-haired blurs launched themselves out the door and threw themselves against Althos, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Once they had him pinned, Marmora identified them as kids-- one a girl about eight years old, the other a boy, no older than six.

“Oh no! You got me!” Althos cried, pretending to struggle underneath them. “The great Paladin of the Blue Lion has been defeated by Altea’s greatest warriors!” He flopped backwards, playing dead.

“YAAAAAY!” the kids shouted, sitting up and high-fiving each other.

“Does that mean I get to be Duke?” the boy asked, still sitting on Althos’ chest.

“Of course not!” the girl argued, sliding off of Althos’ legs and crossing her arms. “Althos is the oldest brother. So then Alzen would be next!”

“But I thought the Duke was chosen by merit?” the boy complained.

Marmora cleared his throat, and both children’s heads snapped up. They jumped to their feet, acting innocent. “Are you our big brother’s friend?” the girl asked, her eyes scanning him suspiciously from his feet to his head.

 _Not exactly_ , Marmora thought, but instead nodded and crouched down, reaching out a hand. “I’m Marmora.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “ _You’re_ Marmora?!”

“Uh… yeah?”

“That’s so cool! Mother! Mother, the Red Paladin came to visit!” he shouted, disappearing into the house.

“And Althos is here, too! But he’s dead now, so you might have to wait a while!” the girl added, running after him.

Marmora looked down at Althos. “Dead, huh?”

“It’s their favorite game,” Althos answered, keeping his eyes closed and lying still.

“Really? And here you call the Galra barbaric.”

Althos sat up, frowning. “I have _never_ said that.”

Before Marmora could say anything, the girl saw Althos sitting up and screeched, “Oh no! He came back!” from inside the house.

Althos grinned, winked at Marmora then jumped to his feet and ran inside. “I’m back, and I’ve turned into a giant, planet-eating Weblum, and I’m coming for Altea!”

The girl screamed, and Marmora watched through the doorway as Althos chased her around the grand foyer. He caught her, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulders. “And I’ve got her!”

She squealed with laughter, interspersed with “You dummy, Weblum don’t _capture_ people! They dissolve them with a blast of stomach acid!”

Marmora watched all of this with amusement, leaning against the doorframe and smiling. He wasn’t surprised that Althos was good with kids-- it just seemed obvious, given his immature and casual nature. But it was different to see it. Moments like these seemed to show the one thing that didn’t seem to match Althos to his Lion. Blue’s power was over ice, but Althos… Althos was so _warm_.

Althos leaned over, carefully setting the girl onto her feet, then set his hands on her shoulders. “That’s because I’m a _good_ Weblum who doesn’t eat kids. Just swipes them up to make sure they’re still studying.”

“ _What_ is all this racket?!”

A late-middle-aged Altean woman came down the stairs, frowning. The young boy had a fistful of the material of her skirt, and was tugging her forward, pointing to Marmora where he stood in the doorway.

“Look, Mother, look! It’s the Red Paladin, see?!”

“Stop that, Alvier, or you’ll have me falling down the stairs,” she scolded, then looked down at Althos in the foyer. “Oh, I see my fool of a son is home. That explains the noise.” She swept down the stairs the rest of the way, then walked briskly across the room, straight to Marmora. As she reached him, she seemed to transform, her face melting into a bright smile, her blue eyes sparkling as she clasped his hands in her own. “And you must be Marmora! I’ve heard such impressive things about you. Oh, come in, come in! It’s so good to have a visitor!”

“Uh…” was all Marmora could get out before she pulled him into the house, still smiling. Like mother like son, he supposed.

“Oh, and my foolish son left you standing out in the doorway. I’m so sorry-- try as we might he just never seemed to hold any manners in that empty head of his.”

Althos let go of his sister’s shoulders, walking toward them and complaining, “Mother, do you have to insult me right after I come home?”

“It is not an insult if it is true,” she shot back.

Althos shook his head, sighing. “C’mon, Mother. All you’re doing is making me look bad.” He stepped next to Marmora, standing up at his full height. “I’m home, Mother, just like you wanted. And this is my… f-friend, Marmora.”

It stung a little to be called Althos’ “friend” after all of this, but he also heard the way Althos had stumbled over the word.

She scrutinized Marmora carefully, then smiled again, giving her son a loving slap on the back. “You’ve made such a charming friend! I was _so_ afraid you wouldn’t make any, since you’re so stuck on falling in love,” she laughed.

Marmora and Althos glanced at each other, trying not to laugh.

Althos’ mother took both of her younger children by their hands. “These are my two youngest-- my daughter, Alana, and my son, Alvier. Their brother, my second son, is upstairs. I apologize for their excitement. Alana, Alvier, apologize to our guest.”

They bowed their heads, reciting a clearly well-practiced, “We are very sorry to have disturbed you, Marmora.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Marmora attempted.

“Hey, hey, Marmora!” Alvier shouted, breaking away from his mother to tug at Marmora’s hand. “Can you show me your sword! Or your bayard?!”

“Uh…”

“Hey, hey, Marmora, are you Althos’ boyfriend?” Alana asked, tugging at his other hand.

“W-what?! I-- how do you--?”

“CHILDREN, please!” Althos’ mother scolded, dragging them away. She turned back to Marmora and Althos, calling, “Do please stay for dinner. Make yourselves comfortable. Alzen is upstairs, if you’d like to meet him.”

She continued pulling the two children away, even as they continued arguing.

“Because Marmora is Althos’ friend, and he’s a boy, right Alana?” Alvier suggested.

“What? No way. Althos didn’t want to come home when Mother called him, and that means he was on a date! And since he brought Marmora home, he--”

Alana’s voice cut off as the door closed behind them. Finally alone, Marmora and Althos allowed themselves to laugh.

“They’re _definitely_ your siblings,” Marmora snickered.

Althos grinned. “Alana’s a pretty smart cookie. Not like Rollier, I guess, but she does really well in school. And Alvier just has a lot of energy.”

Marmora saw him look at the closed door lovingly. “You seem proud of them.”

Althos shrugged, turning toward the stairs. “My mom says I corrupt them.”

“Does it bother you that she always talks about you that way?” Marmora asked, walking beside him as he went up the steps.

“Huh? Like what?”

“Always calling you the foolish son, or a bad influence, or stuff like that. It just makes it sound like she doesn’t expect that much from you.” Having lived with parents that didn’t expect much from him, if for different reasons, Marmora could relate.

Althos laughed. “Nah, she doesn’t really mean it. If anything, it’s the opposite. My mom expects a lot from me, so she’s always bugging me to be better. I know she’s proud, even if she doesn’t say it.”

“How do you know?”

Althos paused, his face screwing up as he thought about it. “Hmmm… I dunno. She picks on me to my face, but when a lot of other people call me a failure, she always sticks up for me. People just expect a lot from us because we’re part of the royal family, y’know? We have to ‘lead by example’ and all that.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Althos pointed down a hallway. “You wanna see my room?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It wasn’t a far walk-- apparently most of the house was actually guest rooms-- but it was still impressive.

Marmora looked around the room, which had a big, soft-looking bed in one side of it, a wall-to-ceiling wardrobe on the other. Everything was blue, from a bright seafoam window frame to ocean blue walls and a deep night-sky blue ceiling. The shelves on the walls held trophies-- marksmanship, racing, most-likely-to-improve, and the walls were decorated with various holo-screens, which rotated through pictures of Althos and some others. In them, Marmora could recognize Althos’ siblings, his mother, and sometimes Allura and King Alfor.

“It must have been hard to get used to the Paladin’s barracks,” Marmora noted.

“Why?” Althos asked, plopping down onto the bed.

“It’s so small compared to this.”

Althos patted the mattress next to him, and Marmora went to sit down. “It was a little weird at first, but it’s not bad. That’s not what I missed, though.”

“What did you miss?” Marmora asked.

“Just watch,” Althos said with a grin, then looked up at the room. “Close the door and the blinds, please.”

The room seemed to do as it was told, plunging into darkness. Almost immediately, though, lights on the ceiling winked on, spinning and sparkling. They were stars-- not cheap plastic ones, but a holographic projection of the universe.

“I always liked looking at the stars when I was a kid,” Althos explained, his face seeming to glow gently in the false starlight. “I would stay up late at night all the time out in the cold, until I actually got hypothermia. My mother got so fed up, she put this into my room. It’s almost as extensive as the star map in the Castle.” He pointed up at a particular nebular cluster. “That one was my favorite. All blue and purple and sparkly. I liked blue a lot when I was a kid.”

Marmora raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the room. “I can tell.”

“I would always look up at this until I fell asleep. I think it was relaxing to me.” He paused, looking over at Marmora. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Marmora answered. “It suits you.”

Althos smiled, putting an arm around Marmora’s shoulders. “But I don’t think I need the stars in my room if I have you.”

Marmora blushed, thankful it was dark. “You and your stupid cheesy pickup lines.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

When his mother called them to dinner, his entire family came to eat, including his father and oldest brother, Alzen. Alana and Alvier both wanted to sit next to Marmora, fighting over the seat until Althos said that they could _both_ sit next to Marmora. They did, sitting on either side of him, chatting with him animatedly. Apparently, Alvier was Marmora’s biggest fan. He’d seen some videos of him training, or during their missions in the Olgarian system, and thought Marmora was cool for fighting with the sword.

Alzen sat down at the table, looking calm and collected, as always. Alzen was the “proper son” in a lot of ways. He was about 14 years old, and pretty much the opposite of Althos in every way imaginable. He was hardworking, serious to a fault, and extremely well-mannered. Althos adored him.

“So, Alzen!” he asked when everyone was seated and the food was being served by hovering trays. “Mother said you had important news. What’s up?”

Alzen set his fork down. “I’ve been accepted as an exchange student to the Galra homeworld. The same military academy Marmora attended, in fact.”

The rest of Althos’ family beamed proudly. This was pretty big news indeed.

Marmora pulled himself away from Alvier and Alana’s chatter to look curiously over at Alzen. “I thought that academy was exclusive to Galra?” he asked. “There were no foreigners when I was there.”

Alzen nodded. “It is a new program Zarkon recommended to further improve Galra-Altean relations. Since I have reached the age to be engaging in diplomacy, as suits a member of the nobility, this will be a prime opportunity to begin. Once I graduate from the academy, I will be the official Altean ambassador to Galra.” He was proud, almost smug, but Althos didn’t blame him.

He leaned over and ruffled Alzen’s hair, which he knew he hated (which is why he did it). “Wow, that’s pretty intense! Nice going there, stud!”

“Your brother is doing very well,” Althos’ father said. “I am proud of all of my children, including you, Althos. You are also worthy of pride as the Blue Paladin.”

Althos grinned. Compliments from his father were worth the world. “Thanks, Father. It seems like everyone likes Marmora more than me, though.”

“That’s because he’s flashy!” Alana announced. “And I like his hair!”

 

After dinner, Marmora and Althos walked back to the castle, only after promising Althos’ family that they would visit again soon.

“You have a good family,” Marmora said.

Althos stretched, yawning. “They’re alright, I guess. What about yours?”

“What about mine?”

“Yeah. What’re they like?”

“There’s not much to tell. It’s just me and my mother and father. Actually, I haven’t seen them all that often since I entered the military academy.”

“WHAT?!” Althos shouted, looking at him incredulously.

“What’s wrong?” Marmora asked.

“Why haven’t you seen your family?! Did they disown you or something?”

“I just… didn’t have the time, I guess,” Marmora answered.

Althos shook his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s a shame, man. I kind of wanted to meet them.”

“Huh? Why?”

Althos turned around, grinning at him, the fading sun behind him. “Because if they had you, they must be pretty great, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, I headcannon that Lance is ridiculously good with kids. Hunk is probably even better with kids, but we're probably not going to explore that in this story (maybe another time). My roommate helped me come up with Althos' siblings' names. I kind of had the idea that the names of the members of the royal family/nobility all start with "Al" lol. So "Alfor", "Allura", and now "Althos", "Alzen", "Alana", and "Alvier". Again, I hope you enjoy this extra-cheesy chapter! Things are about to hit the tipping point!


	11. Returning Hero

_Allura told Lance all kinds of stories about Althos, growing more and more certain of herself as she continued. As far as Lance could tell, Althos sounded like a pretty cool guy. He was a diplomat by the time he was twelve, became a Paladin when he was fourteen, and formed Voltron when he was seventeen. Even if Allura seemed to imply that a lot of it felt like it was on accident._

_In the meantime, Coran worked tirelessly with the archives. After a while, he’d called Pidge to return, asking her to help him refigure the retrieval program to access the damaged files closer to the destruction of Altea. It was about then, apparently, that the mix-up had happened._

_“Wait, I think I got something!” Pidge announced, projecting it onto her screen._

_Lance and Allura immediately ran to see, still energized by the storytelling._

_“It looks like ten thousand years ago, right after the castle landed on Arus and Coran went into the cryopod, a burst of energy hit the pods that he and Allura were in.”_

_“Then why didn’t they show any signs of damage?” Allura asked._

_“That’s the thing,” Pidge answered, changing the screen’s projection to a diagram of the castle’s schematics. “The energy burst didn’t come from outside the castle.” She hit a button on the panel, and a blinking light appeared on the schematics, in a room a few floors away. “It came from here.”_

_Allura gasped audibly, and then whispered, “that is-- was-- my father’s memory chamber.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Marmora was starting to lose track of time. The number of missions, the people they’d met, saved. All of it was turning into one giant, chaotic, and yet wonderful blur. Had it really been over a year since he’d first come to Altea?

He stood on a balcony just outside the training deck, taking a break from his practice with the gladiator. It had been nice, after all of the life-threatening situations he had been through, to face an opponent he had some control over. It was always relaxing, to return to Altea after days, weeks of struggle, and feel like he could rest. He felt safe.

The seasons had cycled completely around, and now it was winter, chilling the air and turning the rock-rain into a layer of fine white ash that covered the once-green earth. In the city, far below him, the people had exchanged their blue-and-white cloth for heavy white coats, layered in fur from the creatures in the mountains.

Marmora smirked to himself. Alteans were so weak to the cold, covering themselves in the furs of other animals to protect their naked, frail bodies. This chill would have been summer on the Galra homeworld.

A dull ache dug itself into his ribs, and Marmora looked away from the balcony, wondering when the last time it had been since he’d felt homesick. Not once in all of his time as a Paladin had he gone home, and yet he had not felt any of the longing he was supposed to. Why was that?

He looked down again, noticing that Althos and Allura were having an ashball-fight in the castle plaza, and when Coran went to get them, began pelting him with the ashballs as well. Marmora laughed as Coran and Allura teamed up against Althos, hitting him from all directions. Maybe it would be fun to join them.

“Marmora, how long has it been since you have seen your family?”

Marmora turned to see King Alfor joining him on the balcony. He leaned against the railing, looking over at Marmora through the sides of his eyes.

“...Not since before I left to attempt to bond with the Red Lion, I guess.”

Alfor sighed, straightening. “I am sorry. I was so focused on my objective-- on using Voltron to unite the universe-- that I have forgotten your individual needs.”

“No, sir… it’s alright. There have been plenty of opportunities for me to go home, I just haven’t.”

“Why not?” Alfor asked, his voice dropping into a curious, but gentle voice. He truly sounded like a father.

It took a long time for Marmora to think of an answer. He in no way hated his family, it was just that… his homeworld carried memories of endless struggle for him. He’d grown up friendless, and even when attending the military academy he would not have called his classmates much more than comrades. Any one of them would have walked all over him to reach the top if that is what they thought was necessary.

“I feel… happy. When I’m on Altea,” Marmora finally said. “My life is just as full of struggle as it was before, but between all of it, there are moments where I feel happy just _being_. Not because I won something or lived through something. I could be doing absolutely nothing and still feel happy. I never felt that way back on my homeworld.”

“And my nephew has nothing to do with that?”

Marmora blushed, unable to prevent himself from looking again down at the courtyard, where Althos had gotten Darvax on his side, and was now turning the tide against Coran and Allura. “That might be part of it. But he’s not keeping me on Altea. Just the opposite-- he seems sad when I say I haven’t really visited my family.”

Alfor followed his gaze, then patted his shoulder. “You should go home then.”

“...sir?” Marmora asked, standing up straight and turning away from the balcony.

“Zarkon will be returning to the Galra homeworld today for official business. You should go with him. I am certain that Rollier and Althos will be more than sufficient to retrieve the skaltrite.”

“But I--”

Alfor cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking down at him seriously. “You will do your home a great disservice by neglecting it. You are a Paladin of Voltron. I am sure they are all very proud of you.”

Slowly, Marmora nodded. “...alright, King Alfor.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

While Zarkon and Marmora headed off to visit the Galra homeworld for “official business”, he and Rollier were tasked with going to retrieve skaltrite from inside a Weblum’s third stomach. Althos had only done it once in the past, and that had been with a team of experts. With just him and Rollier, it might be a bit more difficult.

“AHHHHHH, ROLLIER, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE DISTRACTING IT!” Althos shouted, putting his Lion into a backwards somersault just to avoid the beam of acid the giant, planet-eating worm had ejected from its huge maw.

“Various Weblum have different attractions to different colors. It is hypothesized that individuals may actually only be capable of seeing a limited spectrum, and are thus attracted to planets composed mainly of colors that they can see, and will bypass planets not within that spectrum. Thus it is possible that _this_ Weblum is only capable of seeing blue,” Rollier answered, trying to walk his Lion on the Weblum’s nose to get its attention.

“Oh that’s nice to know!” Althos complained, rushing toward the Weblum’s ear. He managed to duck out of the Weblum’s line of sight just in time, and quickly landed just outside its ear, using Blue’s claws to attach her firmly to the Weblum’s outer plating while he ejected himself from the Lion, crawling through the ear slits.

Rollier joined him a few ticks later, looking a bit out of breath. “Apparently this Weblum’s visible spectrum lies between ultraviolet and high green. I will record this for further Weblum research.”

Althos rolled his eyes. “You really had me scared there, man. Why’re you in such a bad mood, anyway?” he asked, beginning to make his way across the slime of the Weblum’ insides.

“I was interrupted from the story I was reading,” Rollier grumbled as he mercilessly flicked a floating jellyfish away from his face.

“Oh? What were you reading?”

“...something.”

Althos paused, looking back at Rollier in utter confusion. He’d been pretty sure that being vague was against Rollier’s _nature_. There was never a question he didn’t answer as specifically as possible. Which made it ten times more suspicious.

“ _Something_ like what?”

Rollier didn’t meet his gaze. “A story from an… independent publisher on the galactic communications network.”

Althos jet-packed across a stream of acidic sludge, then turned back to Rollier, raising his eyebrow. “You’re not talking about _fanfiction_ , are you?”

Rollier paled, almost walking right into the acid river. Fortunately, he caught himself in time, jetpacking across. When he landed, he lifted his chin proudly. “I am not ashamed of it. The users of the GalNet are wondrously creative. I have found some stories that are much more pleasing than the reality, or those created by official publishers.

“I just can’t believe I got that _right_ ,” Althos commented, blasting a few floating jellyfish away with his laser gun. “So what do you read?”

“My favorite genre is Voltron fanfiction. Initially, I was most fascinated by those stories that featured me as a main character, but when I ran out of material, I became curious and started to read what is known as slash fanfiction, which is when two characters-- or, in this case, real people-- are paired together. The most popular of these among the Paladins of Voltron is you and Marmora.”

Althos missed a step, plunging right into a fortunately non-acidic pool of liquid. “WHAT?!”

Rollier walked past him, using his bayard to jolt open a valve to the Weblum’s first stomach. “It seems that people have immense intuition. Even though no one has been told that you are a couple, they seem to _know_ implicitly. It is quite fascinating. Initially I was merely curious, but before I knew it I was deeply immersed in these stories. I must say, your fans around the universe are more adventurous than you are.”

They quickly hurried to open another valve before the floating jellyfish could gather and spear them in masses. Finally, they were at the third stomach, and Rollier activated a button on his armor display that ejected a battle drone from his Lion.

Rollier had explained that the drone should bother the Weblum enough to cause the creature to attack, allowing the two of them to collect the skaltrite quickly.

As the creature gathered its beam, Rollier and Althos ducked behind their energy shields, grunting against the force of the blast. “Dude, you have some seriously weird hobbies!” Athos shouted as soon as the beam dissipated.

They hurried to gather the skaltrite deposits, but before they went to escape, Althos paused, looking back at Rollier. “So… what kind of stuff do they write, anyway?”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

He and Zarkon landed nearby the capitol building, in what must have been the crater left by the comet the Black Lion had been built out of.

Waiting for them were various highly-ranked military officials… and Alzen, Althos’ younger brother.

As Marmora reached the ground, Alzen ran to him. “Marmora! It has been many days!”

“It’s good to see you, Alzen. But why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the military academy?”

Alzen pointed over at Garen, who was greeting Zarkon. “My commanding officer demanded that I assist him with his duties, as ‘training’ for when I take over as the ambassador to Galra. I am certain that he is only using me as if I were his personal yupper.” He frowned. “It is a great distance from being treated like nobility.”

Laughing, Marmora patted him on the shoulder. “If you work hard, it’ll get better.”

Garen called for Alzen, who waved to Marmora and ran to his commanding officer.

Now alone, Marmora wondered whether he should get permission from Zarkon before he left to visit his family. But he stopped himself, shaking his head. That’s right-- Zarkon was his team member, not his commander.

Marmora went up to the surface, wondering what he would do. There were no parks to visit, no white ash to play in, no festivals to dance the night away in. The Galra homeworld was nothing but rock and red dust, frigid air and frigid hearts.

“Look it’s Marmora!”

“Marmora? The Red Paladin of Voltron?”

Suddenly people were coming out of their houses, surrounding him. For some reason, they were excited to see him. He’d never seen Galra smile this much before.

“What’s going on?” he asked the nearest soldier.

“They’re excited to see you, Marmora,” he answered, smiling wryly. “You’re the pride of the Galra empire.”

“What, me?”

“Did you really kill all of those Vajra with just your sword?!” someone asked him.

“Well, yeah, because I wasn’t anywhere near my lion… I didn’t have a choice. They were going to kill Rollier.”

More and more questions were fired at him. People asking about his armor, his bayard, his family sword. About the mission to the Olgarian system. Asking him for sword fighting lessons.

It was overwhelming. Marmora wasn’t used to being the center of attention. That was Althos’ territory. Marmora wasn’t charming or affectionate, he just fought as hard as he could, and not always by thinking things through carefully. But here he was, everyone eager to talk to him, surrounding him, welcoming him. Warmth. There was warmth in the Galra people, and that was the strangest thing of all.

No one mentioned his height. No one called him a runt, no one tried to start a fight with him. Nor were they afraid of him. It had happened to him before, sometimes, while they were on missions, but he had always thought that it was just because they were happy to be rescued from whatever predicament they were in. But his homeworld was different. They weren’t in danger, they were just excited.

Eventually, he made his way to his parents’ house in the slums, being stopped almost constantly on his way there. A few people even gave him food-- the most precious gift of all on the homeworld, where people had so little to spare that they were unlikely to share it with anyone, even their closest neighbors. And yet they wanted to give it to him.

“I hadn’t thought an alliance with the Alteans would really work,” one older man said to him, trying to hand him a package of root vegetables. “But you do it. You and the rest of Voltron-- it just works out.”

Marmora wanted to refuse, but he knew that doing so would be the greatest insult. So by the time he reached his parents’ house, his arms were full of gifts, from a stuffed Voltron doll to a complete set of razor-sharp knives.

He looked at the house, feeling his heart sink. It was nothing compared to Althos’ mansion. Its roof sloped in the middle. Its walls were carved out of the same red rock that formed everything. It was poor, and misshapen. It was his home.

His father appeared before he even spoke. He was a huge man (although not as huge as Darvax), with thick arms laced with scars and patterns of shaved fur. “Our son is home!” he announced, then launched himself toward Marmora.

Marmora dropped the presents he was carrying, immediately reaching for his bayard, expecting to have to fight his father. That was how he’d been raised. Always be ready for a fight. If you can’t beat me, you can’t beat an enemy of the Galra. His father had been his first opponent.

But instead, his father grabbed him in a hug, squeezing the air out of him. “Welcome home, my son!”

Marmora blinked, coughing for breath. His father had never called him “my son”. Only by his name or “that runt”.

His father put him down, clasping him by the shoulders and looking down at him. “You’ve grown strong, Marmora. Truly the pride of the Galra.”

“Isn’t Zarkon the pride of the Galra?” Marmora asked, looking around. The neighbors were watching, their yellow eyes never leaving his face.

“Zarkon is the _leader_ of the Galra,” his father explained. “We respect him. We fear him, as we should. But you are our pride. He is above us, but you are _one of us._ That is why everyone is so excited to see you!”

“You are Galra’s greatest hero,” his mother said, appearing by his father’s side. She was smaller than his father, but in some ways, even more intimidating. She was an accomplished warrior, and stood her ground in every fight Marmora had ever seen her in. She was confident, and fierce, and everything a Galra warrior was supposed to be. She had retired after losing a leg in battle, insisting that she would not stoop to using a prosthetic to fight rather than the strength of her own body. The prosthetic she used to walk was comparatively humble, but did not lessen her proud stature.

She crouched down, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You have come far, Marmora. You have proven yourself worthy of the family blade,” she said, pulling his sword out from the sheath on his back.

He looked at it in her hands, realizing that he hadn’t actually fought with it in ages. He’d always slung it over his back out of habit when wearing his armor, but he’d usually fought with his bayard.

When he said as much, his mother didn’t look disappointed. Instead, she held the hilt out to him. “When you fight as a Paladin of Voltron, you must fight with the Paladin’s bayard.” She pressed the hilt into his hand, looking at him seriously. “But if there is ever a time when you must fight as a Galra, fight with this.”

 

When Marmora finally returned to his Lion, he felt refreshed. He had not expected such a warm reaction. He hoped he could come back soon-- to repay all of the gifts he had received. To help his parents repair their house. So that next time he returned, he could feel worthy of all of the respect the Galra had lavished on him.

Zarkon, on the other hand, looked less than pleased as he rode his speeder to the Black Lion.

“Is there something wrong, Zarkon?” Marmora asked.

“What did you call me?” Zarkon growled.

“Um… Zarkon?”

“I am your commanding officer, soldier. Do _not_ forget that among all of the praise you have received today.”

“Y-yes… sir.” Marmora blinked. Why was Zarkon so angry? He hadn’t insisted that Marmora think of him as a commanding officer in ages. Why take it back now?

As Zarkon passed, the Galra soldiers stood stoically, the smiles they had greeted Marmora with completely erased. They had frozen over, all of their warmth leached back out of them.

It really was like his father had said. Zarkon was the leader of the Galra, but he was distant. Someone to look up to, to respect, to obey. The Galra would never smile around him.

That might have been what made Zarkon so angry, but Marmora couldn’t tell for sure. He could only climb back into the Red Lion and ready for take-off, heading back to Altea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, anyone who's seen Macross Frontier should recognize the "Vajra". If you haven't seen it, please watch it, okay? It's like the blood in my veins but almost no one I know has seen it and it hurts me.


	12. The Joy Before the Descent

_After Allura’s realization, Coran had chased everyone to bed, but Lance couldn’t sleep. There was something that bugged him about all of this: Althos and Marmora had been in love. It had been pretty undeniable, from what Coran had reluctantly described from the letters stored in the castle archives._

_But he and Althos were similar, according to Allura._

_And he really, really thought that Marmora looked like Keith, if Keith were an_ actual _Galra._

_He sat up and looked around his room, wondering if this was the same place that Althos had slept. If there were secrets from ten thousand years hidden in that room. Almost as if in response, a holo-screen appeared on the wall, showing a picture of an Altean boy with dark skin, white hair, and bright blue eyes, grinning. His arms were around a short Galra boy, who was smiling shyly. It was Marmora-- he could tell that much. Then was the Altean boy Althos?_

_The image changed again, to Althos and Marmora in the middle of a dance, the two of them standing close, their foreheads touching as they laughed. In the background, he could see a young Allura frowning at them. She looked so cute as a little kid._

_There was a knock on his door, and Lance almost hit his head on the top of his bunk in surprise. “Yeah?”_

_The door opened to reveal Keith, still fully dressed for the day. “I found something weird in my room. Is it yours?”_

_He held out a holo-screen almost identical to the one Lance was now looking at, but this one was a close-up of Althos’ face, the same grin stretching from cheek to cheek._

_Lance raised an eyebrow, looking between the holo-screen and Keith. “Why would you think this is mine?”_

_“It’s you, isn’t it?”_

_“What? No! That’s Allura’s cousin.”_

_“No, it’s definitely you!” Keith argued, plopping down on the mattress next to Lance and pointing angrily to Althos’ face. “He has your same stupid grin.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

Something was wrong on Altea when he and Rollier returned to the castle with the skaltrite. Despite the winter chill, people were gathered on the streets of the capital city, chattering to each other excitedly.

“What’s goin’ on?” Althos asked Darvax as soon as they returned to the control room.

“Rumor spread,” Darvax answered, pointing up at the castle screens, which showed an Altean news article depicting Althos and Marmora’s faces. “Alteans know about Althos and Marmora. They are very excited.”

Althos glared at Rollier, who shrugged. “I have been tempted to spread the information exactly two-hundred ninety-seven times, but not once have I done so. I can do an extensive investigation, if you wish…”

Althos shook his head, glaring at the screen. “Nope. I _know_ who it is.”

 

Althos should have known that Alana couldn’t keep her mouth shut for too long. She’d figured him and Marmora out in barely a few ticks, which didn’t really surprise him, knowing how clever she was. Actually, he was almost surprised it had taken her _this_ long to blab it to the world. What was genuinely surprising was how _quickly_ the information had spread. No matter how advanced Altean communication technology got, no matter how connected the GalNet made the universe, or how fast instant messages reached people, it was word of mouth that spread information the most rapidly.

When he tried to message his sister to yell at her for it, though, it was his mother that answered him. “Why didn’t you TELL me that Marmora was your boyfriend?! I would have thrown a grand celebration!”

Althos facepalmed. “Because you wouldn’t _believe_ me even if I did, Mother,” he muttered to himself.

The control room doors opened, and Marmora and Zarkon stepped through. Marmora looked a bit worried, but that didn’t stop Althos from running to him and hugging him tightly. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

Marmora blinked, but then hugged him back, squeezing his eyes tightly and breathing in deeply. Finally he let go, stepping back. “Didn’t do what?”

Althos pointed up at the screen, and Marmora paled. “Oh.”

“Calm down, my nephew,” King Alfor urged, giving them each a light clap on the shoulder. “Do the people of Altea look angry?”

Althos and Marmora looked at each other, then at the article on the screen. All of the words were positive. Actually, it looked more like everyone was angry they’d kept it a secret as long as they had.

“But why?” Marmora asked.

“The Altean people delight in alliances sealed with love,” Alfor answered with a smile. “As Paladins of Voltron, you are a symbol that the Galra and the Alteans can work together. But as a pair, you are a symbol that we are not so different as we seem.”

They looked at each other, then shrugged and laughed, figuring that after all of this time, it was probably okay. Althos had not wanted to pressure Marmora into anything. He had always wanted everything they had done, they had been, to be willing. That was what made it so beautiful. But if Marmora was okay with it, then so was he.

On the edge of the room, Zarkon spun, not even waiting for the door to open all the way before pushing his way through it.

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

The Paladins of Voltron fought hundreds of battles together. With each one, more and more people were excited to see him and Althos, even more than any of the others, which was extremely embarrassing at first. But eventually it just became part of his normal routine. His life alongside Althos, his friendship with the other Paladins.

Adventure after adventure, fight after fight. Darvax engineering a way out. Rollier creating some genius computer program to solve whatever problem they were facing. Althos grinning and making finger-guns at whatever leaders they ran into, somehow convincing them not to kill them. And in charge of them, with all of this chaos, Zarkon kept them all together.

Marmora marked the time by noticing how much older the Altean princess got. She was more slight than her father, but she grew strong. She even challenged him on the training deck a few times, confident in her own skills. Marmora hadn’t lost to her yet, but there were a few times he’d let his guard down and almost lost the match. Allura was a force to be reckoned with, even as a young teenager. Was she really fifteen already?

On the Galra homeworld, Alzen had graduated from the military academy and taken his place among the high-ranking Galra officers as the Altean ambassador. He still greeted Marmora happily every time he visited.

But this time they were going to the Galra system for an entirely different reason.

“There’s an entire _fleet_ on their way?!” Marmora exclaimed, looking incredulously at the display Coran was showing them. “But why?!”

Coran shook his head. “Hard to say. But we received the distress signal from Galra-occupied space and responded immediately. They offered to send out their own fleet so that we wouldn’t have to be bothered, but we figured that sending Voltron might be a more diplomatic solution,” he explained, pulling at his moustache.

“Please, my friends, try to avoid violence as much as possible,” Alfor urged, clasping Zarkon’s arm. “I would want these people as our friends rather than our enemies. I am trusting you, Zarkon, to negotiate a peace between your people and theirs.”

Zarkon nodded solemnly. “It will be done.”

“Right then!” Coran announced. “Off you go.”

 

They arrived through the wormhole in front of a mass of alien ships, all aglow with energy shields and read-to-fire weapons. It was a huge fleet, enough ships to blot out the glow of any nearby stars.

“We are the Paladins of Voltron, representing the Galra-Altean alliance,” Althos announced, sounding uncharacteristically serious. “We only want to negotiate… and… stuff.”

Marmora rolled his eyes. “You were doing well there for a second, Althos. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

They were interrupted by garbled alien speech coming through their communications links, and the weapons glowing, aimed toward their Lions.

“Rollier? What’re they saying?!” Marmora urged, immediately going into evasive maneuvers to dodge the rain of lasers that were racing toward them.

“Translating now! The speech pattern appears similar to--”

“Not important, Rollier!” Althos shouted, almost smashing his Lion into Darvax’s in an attempt to dodge. “Translate now, explain later!”

The alien speech changed into Altean standard, coming over their speakers in an angry warble. “Cease your displays of aggression, Galra! We will not tolerate this!”

“Dude, we come in peace!” Althos shouted, taking a laser blast aimed at Rollier’s Lion with Blue’s armored sides. “Rollier, does the translation go both ways?”

“Of course it does!” Rollier answered indignantly.

The shooting, however, continued, and as more and more ships in the fleet took aim at them, it was getting harder to dodge. “Squad leader, what should we do?” Marmora asked. “Zarkon, sir?”

The aliens continued to jabber. “We have no argument with the Altean civilization. Leave now and we will not fight you. Leave the Galra.”

“What? No way! The Galra and Alteans are best buds!” Althos shouted. “Zarkon, why is he so angry at the Galra?!”

“It was _your_ people who attacked an innocent Galra envoy attempting to establish trade relations,” Zarkon growled to the alien fleet. “You should have anticipated retaliation.”

“Unacceptable. We are commencing combat, Zarkon of the Galra Empire,” the alien leader announced, and then cut off the communications link.

“What should we do?” Althos asked. “If we don’t stop them, they’re gonna head to the Galra homeworld!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Zarkon commanded, “form Voltron. We will stop this fleet _now_.”

“Woah, woah, wait, didn’t King Alfor ask us to solve this _peacefully_?!” Althos argued.

Zarkon wheeled on him. “Did you forget who is the leader of this team, ‘Duke’ Althos? Form Voltron!”

Marmora felt uneasy, even as the team formed the weapon. He could feel it from Althos, too. This sense that something was wrong. But Zarkon was right. Their first priority was stopping the fleet from reaching the Galra homeworld, whatever the cost. Diplomacy would have to come later.

The battle was fierce. They formed the giant sword, slicing the giant battleships into ribbons. Blasting them apart with the Yellow Lion’s shoulder cannon. Voltron took an enormous amount of damage, but they persevered, until all that was left of the fleet was debris.

The Lions split apart, surveying the battlefield. “Survivors?” Darvax asked, sounding a bit sad.

“Unnecessary,” Zarkon answered. “If they are strong enough to survive, then they should be smart enough to return to their world.”

“What’s gonna happen to _their_ homeworld?” Althos asked.

“Alfor, it is Zarkon. We had no choice but to eliminate the enemy fleet. I am, however, still getting reports of instability on the planet’s surface. I am sending in a small Galra force to restabilize the planet.”

“If that is what you think is best, Zarkon,” Alfor answered. “I am sad that it has come to this. However, we would not have created Voltron if all battles could be avoided with diplomacy.”

“Of course,” Zarkon answered. “We will be returning shortly.”

The wormhole opened, and the rest of the Lions went towards it, but Marmora paused, looking back at the remains of the battlefield.

“They would have destroyed your home. Your pity is wasted on them,” Zarkon said to him.

“I know,” Marmora answered. “I’m following you, sir.”

But something still felt wrong.

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

“What I don’t understand is why you haven’t just married the boy already,” his mother quipped, flicking annoyedly through her holo-screen. “You’ve been an item for what, three years? Almost four now? What’s stopping you?”

Althos hadn’t been listening. He’d been staring at the table between them, his mind elsewhere. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

His mother frowned. “What is wrong with you, Althos? You have been distant ever since you came home. Is there something wrong with you and Marmora?”

“No! No, we’re fine. Better than fine; I don’t know what to do with myself I love him so much, it’s just…”

She sat down, laying a hand over his arm. “What? What is bothering you, my son?”

“Would you believe it if I said that it’s Zarkon?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The great Zarkon? What problems could he possibly give you?”

“Well that’s just it,” Althos answered. “He’s still way cooler than all of us, and good at everything. That’s why I don’t understand… why he’s gotten so uptight. It wasn’t sudden or anything… it was just a little at a time. When we first got together as Voltron, he was kinda cool, y’know? Kinda like Father. But he’s… I dunno. He’s always been serious, but now it’s different. It’s like he’s paranoid. You say something to contradict him and it’s like you’re defying a commanding officer.”

His mother patted his hand. “Lord Zarkon has a great responsibility as both leader of the Galra and as the Head of Voltron. I am sure he is merely under much stress. Please do not dwell on it, my son. Only try to do your best to lessen the burden he feels.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

 

That night, he was about to fall asleep next to Marmora, when a thought occurred to him. “Hey, Marmora?”

“Mmmhmmph,” Marmora grumbled, rolling over so that his breath ruffled the cloth next to Althos’ collarbone. “What?”

“Did you hear anything about the Galra envoy heading to the planet we just fought with?” he asked, winding a finger through Marmora’s purple-and-black hair.

Marmora shook his head, still mostly asleep. “No.”

“But Zarkon knew about it.”

“He must’ve.”

“Why didn’t he tell King Alfor?”

“I dunno. Just go to sleep, idiot.”

And Althos tried, but it took a long time. Eventually, he was able to focus on Marmora’s breathing, trying to let it soothe his thoughts. It was enough to convince him that everything was fine.


	13. The Precipice

_Lance tried his best to explain to Keith what Allura had told him about the Blue and Red Paladins, Allura’s cousin, and the memory chamber. It felt awkward, telling Keith about Marmora and Althos, but he couldn’t really_ lie _about it. Besides. What happened back then had nothing to do with them now, even if Althos and Marmora looked so similar to the two of them._

_“That still doesn’t answer why Allura and Coran can’t seem to remember Marmora,” Keith pointed out._

_Lance shrugged. “I dunno. Coran made us all go to bed. He said we’d figure out more in the morning.”_

_“This doesn’t feel right,” Keith announced. “I’m gonna go check out the memory chamber.”_

_Lance jumped to his feet, following after him. “You’re not gonna find anything, you know. Allura took out her father’s program that time the castle went crazy and tried to kill us. Do you remember that? I almost got sucked out into space!”_

_“And?”_

_“AND that’s why Coran told us to stop! It’s a dead end!”_

_“I don’t accept that,” Keith hissed in a whisper as they rounded the corner to the memory chamber. Lance noticed he was still holding the holo-screen from Lance’s room. “We’re never going to move forward if we don’t even know what happened back then.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

“Why are the Galra getting attacked so often?” he complained, shooting down yet another enemy fighter. This was the fifth time a Galra-occupied world had gotten attacked in the past three weeks. Every time, Voltron had been sent out to deal with it. No one seemed willing to listen to them. Every civilization they encountered was filled with rage, on every occasion trying to destroy Voltron.

“The Galra Empire has grown too strong,” Zarkon explained. “Other civilizations have begun to view us as a threat, to covet our power.”

“I mean, I guess,” Althos answered, freezing a bunch of fighters to the side of an enemy ship with Blue’s ice beam. “But seriously, it’s just one right after the other!”

“None of them appear willing to learn their lesson,” Zarkon answered, slicing a small ship to pieces with the Black Lion’s jawblade. “We will have to keep fighting. This is all for the sake of peace in the universe.”

“It doesn’t feel very peaceful,” Althos grumbled.

The battle ended soon, and the Lions returned to Altea. Althos was exhausted. It felt like every other day there was another major battle. He hadn’t had time to visit his family in weeks, let alone visit Marmora’s family, like he’d wanted to do for ages. Especially since the Galra homeworld was on lockdown against all of the assaults they were trying to endure.

Althos took off his helmet, looking up at the sky. He hoped his brother, Alzen, was alright over there. His brother had made it through the Galra’s rigorous military training, but he was no soldier-- Althos knew that much. Alzen disliked fighting just as much as Darvax disliked talking.

When he returned to the control room to report, he found that a strange hush had fallen over its occupants, its usual buzz dulled by a cloud of tension.

Darvax and Rollier joined him, and Althos looked around the room, finally focusing on Allura. “Hey… you guys look… bad. What’s going on?”

Allura frowned even deeper, looking between him and her father’s control panel. “Althos, do you recall the first planet that attacked the Galra homeworld?”

“Yeah. But I thought the Galra had it under control.”

“That’s just the problem,” she answered, tapping a control so that a diagram of all of the places they had just fought in were displayed on the screen. “They _do_ have it under control. They have all of them under control.” Each one lit up with red, glowing ominously.

Althos looked between her and King Alfor, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What are you saying?”

Alfor looked the most nervous Althos had ever seen him. Silence fell over the room as they all waited for his explanation.

Finally: “The Galra have been using Voltron to conquer planets,” he whispered, as if the words were too horrible to say in his full voice.

“W-what?” Althos stepped back, stunned. “But we were trying to protect the Galra homeworld. It wasn’t…”

Allura leaned over and hit a button on her control panel, and a recording began to play. Althos recognized Alzen’s voice immediately.

“Report number fourteen to the Altean Republic. I noticed an odd pattern in the planets that have been attacking the Galra homeworld recently. Each one was preceded by a Galra ‘trade envoy’. However, when I looked at the flight records in the galactic hubs, I didn’t find any trade ships heading to any of those locations. But each of these planets seemed to have marked hatred toward the Galra Empire. I looked into it, and found--”

There was a thud in the background of the recording, and then shouting. Alzen’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The Galra Empire has been sending units of _soldiers_ to those planets, not traders. They try to force the planets to comply, and if they don’t, they’ve been calling for Voltron. I don’t know how long this has been going on. The only reason I found out was because I overheard the Galra council--” he broke off, and then came back, breathing hard. “Anyway, I advise extreme caution. I’ll see if I can find out anything else, but I can’t move as freely as I could before. Alzen, ambassador to Galra, over.”

The recording ended, plunging the control room again into tense silence.

“Do Marmora and Zarkon know about this?” Althos asked, beginning to back out of the room. “Why aren’t they here? I have to--”

Darvax stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

King Alfor gazed at the display sadly. “We do not know who we can trust, Althos.”

“But, Uncle, you _know_ they didn’t have anything to do this.”

“Althos, you are too close to the situation to think clearly.”

Althos was panicking. His brother had sounded afraid, but he’d done his duty. Althos had no idea how Alzen was. How deeply he was in this investigation. If he’d been caught. But he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Zarkon and Marmora were behind this. He just couldn’t.

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Marmora didn’t know why he hadn’t been summoned to the bridge after the mission was over, as usual, but he figured King Alfor must have his reasons. With nothing urgent to do, he decided to head down to the city to pick up some of the clothes he’d ordered.

Over the years, Marmora had been trying to extend his wardrobe past the black Galra flight suits, without letting go of his own personal sense of style. The Altean tailors had been more than accommodating, giving him Altean-styled clothing in his personal favorite color combination of red and black.

He rode his speeder down into the city, stopping at the shop of the tailor that had given him the clothes he had worn to the festival the night of his arrival in Altea. He got off, walking into the shop.

The woman smiled tiredly. “Oh, it’s my favorite customer. You’re here for your new design?” she asked.

He nodded. “Thank you for always helping me with this. I feel a bit more like I fit in on Altea.”

She disappeared into the back room, but he could hear her laughing. She reemerged, holding a bundle of clothing. “Oh, Marmora, don’t worry so much about fitting in. As long as you’re with our beloved Duke, you couldn’t hide even if you wanted to!”

She laughed again, and Marmora scowled at her. As she handled him the bundle of clothes, though, her expression grew serious. “I am sorry about the situation on your homeworld. You must be worried for your family.”

Marmora thought about his mother, who had repeatedly bragged about taking out an entire enemy battalion all on her own. He laughed. “I’m not worried.”

The shopkeeper sighed, patting his arm. “Regardless, I am glad to know that at least you are safe. I’ve grown rather fond of you, my dear.”

He smiled, counting out the amount of money he owed her for the clothes. “Thank you for always being so welcoming.”

“Of course, dear. It’s the Altean way of doing things.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Alfor hadn’t summoned Zarkon and Marmora because he wasn’t sure whether either of them were responsible for the actions of the Galra. “I want to trust them as much as you do,” he’d said. But if either of them _were_ involved, hearing Alzen’s transmission could put Althos’ brother in danger.

But Althos had begged his uncle to let him tell Marmora _something_. That he knew Marmora wasn’t responsible. “Marmora wouldn’t do anything to put Alzen in danger,” he argued. “They’re friends.”

Finally, Althos had been allowed to go find Marmora, to tell him as much as he could without saying where the information had come from. It was left up to Althos to determine Marmora’s innocence.

After quickly questioning the castle staff, he found out that Marmora had gone to town, and was about to go after him when Marmora’s speeder drove up to the palace entrance.

“Marmora!” he called out, running to him.

Marmora jumped off of his speeder, holding a bundle of clothes. “What’s wrong, Althos?”

Althos grabbed Marmora by the collar and kissed him, as fiercely as he dared, not caring that Marmora dropped his bundle in surprise. Finally he let go, having calmed down enough to have regained his senses.

As he pulled away, Marmora still looked stunned. “Althos? What’s going on? You look really… pale.”

He didn’t doubt it. “We need to talk,” he announced, grabbing Marmora’s hand. “Come on.”

He pulled Marmora along behind him, to the gardens, to his favorite spot. It was the place where they’d first met, but more important for the current moment, it was a quiet, isolated spot away from any watching eyes or listening ears.

As soon as they were both sitting, Althos blurted everything Allura and Alfor had told him, carefully leaving out the part about Alzen’s recording. That was the worst part-- lying to Marmora. He wasn’t telling him something untrue, but not telling him parts of it at all… it still felt like lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You don’t think _Zarkon_ ordered that, do you?” Marmora asked incredulously.

“I don’t know _what_ to think,” Althos answered, clenching his fist so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “But I know I can’t just sit back and let it keep happening, let alone help them get away with it. I don’t… I don’t want to make the Galra out to be a bunch of bad guys. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. We’ve done such amazing things together, I just…”

Marmora leaned over and kissed him again, sending his thoughts spinning away. “Hey, just calm down. I _know_ you wouldn’t make an accusation like that without a reason. But we don’t know Zarkon was involved, right? The Galra council could have ordered it without Zarkon’s permission.”

“You think so?”

Marmora nodded. “I’ll ask him myself. I _am_ his right arm, after all, so if he tells anyone about it, it should be me. But I’m sure… I’m sure he’s not responsible. I mean, he’s the Black Paladin. How could he do something like conquer other planets?”

Althos sighed and dropped his head on Marmora’s shoulder, resting in the hollow of his neck, breathing in the musty smell of his fur. “I hope you’re right. I really, really hope you’re right.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

A small audio link connected him to Rollier and the others, all listening to what Zarkon was going to say. He was still stunned from what Althos had told him, but he felt duty-bound to prove Zarkon innocent. He had to stay calm enough to think clearly.

Zarkon was readying his Lion for a return trip to the Galra homeworld, having insisted that it was necessary in order to restore order after the last attack. Thus, Marmora waited for him in the Black Lion’s docking bay, resting on Black’s foot.

Zarkon must not have known he was there, because he dropped into the Black Lion’s cockpit without even pausing to speak to him. But Marmora could hear him talking to someone.

“Sir, should we move forward with the next attack?” It was Garen, the same Galra pilot Marmora had beat in combat for the right to fly the Red Lion.

“Do not hesitate. Remove all threats to the Galra Empire.”

“Of course. Vrepid-Sa, sir.”

“Vrepid-Sa.”

Marmora couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He got to his feet, standing just in front of the Black Lion’s mouth, waiting for Zarkon to emerge.

“Marmora? I believe you are in the docking bay of the wrong Lion,” Zarkon commented nonchalantly. “I had thought you were beyond the point of getting lost inside the Castle of Lions.

Marmora had a hard time finding the words. “How could you?”

Zarkon turned, looking over his shoulder at him. “How could I what?”

“You… you ordered those planets attacked? And then when they resisted, you used Voltron… you used _us_ … to put them down?”

Zarkon put his hand on Marmora’s shoulder. “It is for the good of the Galra. With resource-rich planets, our people will not go hungry any longer. It is what you wished, isn’t it? To see your family out of poverty?”

Marmora shook off Zarkon’s hand, stepping backward. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that. The Altean peace… the Voltron Alliance…”

Zarkon scoffed. “The Voltron Alliance is too slow, Marmora. Our people will starve before we see any significant gains from it. Voltron is being wasted.” He held out his hand. “Come, join our people, Marmora. Do not let the Alteans make you weak.”

Around him, the docking bay went into lockdown. Soldiers surrounded him, and the three other Paladins as well as King Alfor entered, all of them looking shell-shocked.

“No… I can’t.”

“You would love a fool of an Altean boy more than you love your own people?” Zarkon growled.

“If loving my people means that I have to destroy an entire planet’s civilization, then yes.”

King Alfor stepped past Marmora, confronting Zarkon directly.

“My friend, remove your soldiers from the planets they forcibly occupy. Let them go, and we will see past this. I know your intentions are good.”

“No.”

“Zarkon!” Alfor shouted, his voice filled with more despair than Marmora had ever heard in it. “This is not what we made the Lions of Voltron for.”

“Isn’t it?” Zarkon asked. “Those planets were war-torn and full of chaos before the Galra occupied them. I should say we’ve made them peaceful. Is that not what we wanted?”

“You’ve gone mad,” Alfor argued. “You’ve gone mad, and you tried to pull your entire people into it. How can you say this is for your people if so many of them will die in needless war? Submission is not _peace_ , Zarkon. Return those planets to their rightful owners immediately, or we will have no choice but to use force against you.”

Zarkon’s face darkened. “Are you declaring war against me, Alfor?”

“I do not want to, my friend. I only do what I must.”

The Lion suddenly snapped its jaws shut around Zarkon, whose laughter then echoed through the room. “Then war it will be. You will regret choosing the wrong side, Alfor. You choose to protect the weak rather than enforce the strong. But I-- I am the Black Paladin, head of Voltron! I am the leader of the Galra Empire! You cannot stop me.”

The Black Lion crouched, the red wings on its back shimmering. Before anyone could stop it, it launched into the air, blasting a hole through the docking bay’s locked doors, disappearing into space.

The last thing Marmora heard from him was his voice in his comm link. “You will never return home, Marmora… traitor to Galra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think madness is something that happens when someone has too much of something. Cares too much. Wants too much. Too much power. That's the direction I took with Zarkon. I think it's something we see in a lot of actual "villains" in real life history. Some of the worst people that have ever lived genuinely thought they were doing the right thing.


	14. Lost Peace

_Lance wasn’t entirely sure why Keith was sneaking around inside the castle, since, he was pretty sure, there weren’t any bad guys lurking. He figured it out when they ducked behind a corner and could hear Allura talking._

_“There are so many questions I wish I could ask you, Father,” she was saying._

_They peeked around, but unfortunately forgot that a lot of the doors were automatic. It sensed them and slid open, startling Allura as they tried to hide, but too late._

_“I already know you’re there, you two,” she announced, and they shamefacedly walked into the room._

_There wasn’t much there. In the center of the room stood a broken control panel, but the rest was empty. In front of this, Allura sat on the floor, her legs tucked neatly under her._

_Lance didn’t really know what to say, so he focused on something else. “So… what’s with the glowing thingy?” he asked, pointing to a tiny blinking light on the control panel._

_“There’s nothing glowing… there is nothing left in this memory unit after I destroyed my father’s program,” Allura answered._

_“Really? What about this?”_

_Allura huffed, looking closer. “That’s… odd…” She reached out to touch it, and the control panel came to life, showing a flickering version of her father’s hologram._

_“My daughter, if you are seeing this you likely know that you and Coran have memories inconsistent with reality. I was responsible for this.”_

_“What?” she gasped, her eyes reflecting the glow of her father’s hologram._

_“I separated this recording from my normal memory program shortly after the castle landed on Arus, knowing that it is the most important information I had to give you: I implanted false memories into your minds because I knew the truth would make it too difficult to fight the Galra. I do not know if this is what your true Father would have done, but I felt I had to spare you the pain of Marmora’s death. I did not want you to lose hope that it was possible to defeat Zarkon, even if I could not.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Altea had erupted into chaos. Protests surrounded the castle, the entire main plaza crowded with people furious that the royal family would accuse the Galra of such an awful deed. They were Altea’s closest allies! And what about Zarkon and Marmora? They weren’t evil.

The wave of anger reached Althos and Marmora even on the Castle’s highest balcony. It had happened as soon as the King had released all of the official evidence that they had. No one wanted to believe that any of this had happened. No one wanted to believe that they’d been betrayed so utterly. Althos didn’t want to believe it, either.

 _If Zarkon was so evil, why didn’t he just kill you when he had the chance?_ Was one question Althos had heard. To be honest, he didn’t have the answer. Maybe there was some part of Zarkon that really _was_ good. Maybe even after all of that, he couldn’t quite bring himself to kill the friends and comrades who had fought by his side. But maybe that was wishful thinking.

Inside the control room, Rollier scrolled through comments on the GalNet, his face puckered into an eternal frown. As Althos and Marmora entered, he closed the screen and sighed. “People all across Altea have been posting their personal stories of close contact with the Galra. Many of them were inspired by Althos and Marmora.”

“If this continues, the Altean people will be unwilling to fight the Galra when it is necessary,” King Alfor scowled, gazing out the window at the roiling masses below. “I released the information because I could not lie to my people. But to think it would unleash this madness…”

“We have to do something about it, or we could be in big trouble. The Galra are acting quickly,” Coran pointed out, projecting a blockade of Galra ships surrounding their homeworld. “And without the Black Lion, we can’t form Voltron!”

“Yes, thank you, Coran,” Allura said sarcastically. “But we have to do something, or Ambassador Alzen could be in trouble.”

Althos swallowed hard. They hadn’t heard anything from his brother since his last transmission. All they knew was that he was still somewhere on the Galra homeworld, entrenched in their highest levels of government.

“First we must calm the Altean people,” Alfor declared, turning to face them. “Althos, Marmora, I fear that you two are the only ones my people will listen to regarding this manner. With Voltron torn apart, you are the last remnants of our alliance with the Galra.”

Althos and Marmora met each other’s gazes, then turned back to Alfor and nodded.

“I’m not a very good diplomat, but I can try,” Marmora said.

“In the meantime, we will try to find your brother, Althos,” Alfor responded, putting a hand on his shoulder. “His safety is our utmost priority right now.”

“Thank you, Uncle Alfor,” Althos replied. “I’ll do my best, too.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

When he and Althos emerged from the castle, people cheered. They held up signs supporting the two of them. They all leaned forward, eager to hear what the two of them were going to say. He hadn’t even done anything, and yet the Altean people were ready to listen.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered to Althos.

“I don’t know either!” Althos hissed back. “Just… tell them what we know.”

“You go first!”

“No, you go!"

" _You’re_ supposedly Altea’s ‘best diplomat’.”

Someone from the crowd shouted, “look at the couple bicker!”

Many people laughed, which would have been comforting to Marmora normally, but now it just unsettled him. Finally, he rolled his eyes at Althos and stepped forward.

“Um, hi. I’m Marmora, the Red Paladin. I know you’re all...upset… about the information the Castle just released. I get it. Believe me, I want to believe that the Galra Empire is conquering planets even less than you do. I know better than anyone how strict and fierce that Galra are, but I never thought of them as evil. I still don’t.”

Althos nodded, taking a deep breath, reaching for Marmora’s hand under his cloak. “None of us want to believe that the Galra are evil. _I_ know that they’re not. How could I be with Marmora if I didn’t? That would be… it would be a total quiznaking move, and I’m not about that.”

Marmora tried not to laugh. How was Althos a skilled diplomat again?

“We all know amazing Galra. People we trust. People we love,” Althos continued. “They’re like our big, buff family. Except for Marmora, who is neither big nor buff.”

Marmora punched him.

“ANYWAY, what I’m saying is that just because someone is family, we don’t let them do bad things. You can love someone without loving everything they do, y’know? I mean, I love my little sister Alana, but I couldn’t just let her keep the cloak she accidentally stole from a shopkeeper at an Unuru swap moon.”

“She stole from an Unuru?!” someone nearby them gasped. “That’s impressive.”

Mamora tried to cover for Althos. “His point is, the Galra might not be evil, but if we just let them do bad things, we’re not actually acting like family. We’re just letting them do what they want. Trust me, all of us _want_ the Galra-Altean alliance to work. The Galra do, and I know that the Alteans do, too. That’s where I want us to be once this is all over.”

The crowd was quiet, contemplating what the two of them had said.

“But WHEN are the two of you going to get married?!” someone shouted, and quickly the crowd shifted. They asked about alliances, diplomacy. Love, marriage…

It was so shallow, Marmora realized, looking out at the Altean crowd. They had no idea the scale of what they were facing. Even surrounded by dangerous animals and space-faring creatures, the Altean people had grown accustomed to peace. They were so used to diplomacy _working_. They didn’t know what it was like to starve. They didn’t know struggle, not really.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the joyful shouting. These people would be lambs to slaughter in front of the Galra military. Their elites were strong and knowledgeable, but there were so few. The general public had _no idea_ what they were facing.

It was in that moment that Marmora first felt the seed of doubt growing in the pit of his stomach. That maybe they wouldn’t win the war they were about to enter. That they could very well get crushed by the militaristic Galra Empire.

And yet, this was the side he had chosen. Even knowing that they would lose, it was for this that he would fight. The right to be naive, to have hope. It was what he wanted for the Galra, too.

He felt as if his message hadn’t really reached the Altean people. He needed to warn them, to explain to them--

“Althos, we need you to report back to the control room _immediately "_ , Allura suddenly announced into both of their comm links. She sounded panicked.

“Why? What’s wrong? Did the speech suck, because you could’ve said so earli--”

“FORGET ABOUT THAT!” She screamed, setting Marmora’s ears ringing. “Althos, your brother is sending us a transmission from the Galra homeworld, and I’m telling you to come see it NOW.”

 

The people had been outraged when he and Althos had immediately run back into the castle as fast as they could, urging the elevator to go faster.

They burst into the control room, which was filled with as much of the castle’s staff as the room could fit. All were looking at the main screen, through which Alzen was talking to King Alfor.

Althos and Marmora pushed to the front.

“Alzen, are you okay?!” Althos shouted.

He certainly didn’t look like it. Bruises ringed his eyes, his clothes were torn, and blood ran from his lip.

“Zarkon knows I’m the one who gave you the information,” Alzen said, looking agitated. “I managed to get away from the squad that was sent to apprehend me, but well… it wasn’t easy. There’s a Galra family against what Zarkon is doing… they’re sheltering me. But I…”

There was shouting in the background. A woman’s scream. Gunshots.

“They found me!” Alzen shouted, the screen following him as he ran. “Listen, don’t worry about me. Just protect Altea, Brother. I’m sorry I never had faith in you.”

“Alzen, just… find somewhere else to hide,” Marmora called out. “Go to my parents! My mother can protect you.”

Alzen continued to run, but then stopped with a gasp. “Emperor Zarkon.”

Everyone in the control room stopped breathing. Mostly what they saw was Alzen, but it was true-- Zarkon was there, glowering down at him. He blocked out the dim gray sunlight, casting a shadow over Alzen and the screen through which they were all watching.

“You have nowhere to run, Alzen, Altean Ambassador to Galra,” he said, his lip curling. “Even though you were taught by the Galra, you were still too weak to stand and fight. You disgust me.”

“I-I’m not a soldier. I’m a diplomat. A noble.”

“You are worthless,” Zarkon growled, his bayard flashing into his hand. Even Marmora couldn’t watch, even as Althos stared at the scene in open-mouthed horror. He only heard the slash of the energy blade. The halting of Alzen’s breath.

Zarkon reached down, pulling the transmission screen off of Alzen’s wrist. “These are the people you chose to protect, Alfor, old friend. Let this be your warning: stay out of my way.”

He discarded Alzen’s limp body, crushing the transmission in his hand. The screen went black, blinding the watching Alteans to the rest of the scene.

Althos fell to his knees, his eyes staring at the screen as if he was still watching his brother die. Marmora didn’t know what to do, what to say. He’d cared for Alzen, but Althos was his _brother_. He’d been so proud of him, always talking about how Alzen was the “good son”, the hard worker, the one who had a beautiful future.

Marmora looked out the window and saw that the Altean people had fallen silent. All of the protests, the shouts, the laughter… it was still, quiet.

“Sir…” Coran finally said, his voice cracking. “That broadcast was projected to the entire Altean public.”

Zarkon had used Althos’ brother to display his power. He had killed one of Altea’s beloved nobility in front of the entire planet’s eyes. Just because Alfor had decided to resist him.

How was that the same man he had fought alongside so many times? Who had seen him in a street scuffle and had sent him to the military academy, saving him from poverty? Who had laughed when Rollier had discovered his relationship with Althos? Who had encouraged the romance, saying it would “strengthen his right side”?

How… how had any of that come from the same person that loomed over Marmora now? This merciless, power-hungry demon who crushed all resistance to his rule… it wasn’t the Zarkon Marmora knew. And yet… it was him. He’d always been powerful. So powerful that he couldn’t stand the idea of not being powerful.

Marmora knelt, pulling Althos into his arms, knowing that there was nothing else he could do.

The other Alteans slowly left, until only Alfor and Allura remained in the control room. Still Marmora crushed Althos in his embrace, twisting his fingers into Althos’ white hair, not knowing what else there was.

And then Althos was pushing him away, getting to his feet. But his eyes still weren’t focusing, their usual bright blue gleam dulled to gray. “I need to be alone for a while,” he said, stumbling past King Alfor. “I just… I’m sorry.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

He flew Blue to the very peak of the Altean mountains, not even feeling the cold wind whipping around him, even though he knew he should. He sat in the white ash next to her belly, looking down at the city far, far below.

From there, it looked peaceful. So far away, he could almost pretend that everything was the same it had always been. He would go with Marmora to the festival and dance, laughing, trying to see if he could make his boyfriend jealous and never succeeding, because he belonged entirely to Marmora and he knew it. He could pretend that his family was sitting down to dinner, laughing about something Alana had said, praising Alzen for his success. He could pretend none of this had happened. He could even pretend that he could look at the Galra the same way he always had. With their charming yellow eyes and cute ears. He’d never be able to think of them like that again. Not after watching Zarkon kill his brother. Those yellow eyes would dig their way straight into his heart, cutting holes into it with every glance.

 _There is nothing I can say to comfort you_ , Blue whispered, curling around him, resting her giant head next to the place he sat. _But I know that you must mourn. It is alright to cry, Althos. I would not fault you._

But that was why he’d come all the way up here, where the wind pulled all of the moisture from his eyes. Where it was so cold that the tears froze to his skin, finally creating enough pain that he could actually feel something.

This was the first person to die because of Zarkon’s betrayal. He knew he would have to face it, to be a true Paladin of Voltron and stop him, to save everyone from having Alzen’s fate. But for that moment, it was okay to just pretend. Pretend he didn’t feel anything. Pretend that everything was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	15. Trust

_ When the recording faded and the room fell silent, Lance and Keith left Allura alone for a while, figuring it was what she would need. Keith headed back to his room, but Lance still wasn’t tired. He felt exhausted-- he wasn’t used to this much stuff in one day-- but he knew that sleep was going to escape him. _

_ Instead, he dropped into his Lion’s docking bay, looking up at Blue’s blank mechanical face. He sat down on the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously up at her. “Okay,  _ talk _. You’re the one that brought us here with all of your space magic mumbo-jumbo. You were there, in the past. Why would King Alfor want Allura to forget about Marmora?” _

_ He didn’t really expect an answer. Blue would communicate with him, but her voice never translated to words, only ideas. _

_ Her eyes glowed dimly, and she let out a low growl, flooding Lance’s head with images. Althos and Marmora, standing in front of the Red Lion. Greeting Zarkon. Arguing with an Olkarian wearing the Green Lion’s armor. Images of them sitting in the grass, an Altean city far below them. Fighting alongside each other, bloodied and exhausted but a good team. _

_ Underneath the river of images, though, ran a current of unrestrained sorrow. She had wanted them to be happy.  _

_ Lance tried to close his eyes against the Lion’s memories, but couldn’t. When finally they abated, he looked up at her again, thinking that maybe he understood. _

_ “You… miss them, don’t you?” _

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Altea had never been so quiet. The marketplace was closed, the stalls eerily empty. No one went to visit their neighbors. No children played in the hills outside the city. Even the wind had fallen still, leaving Marmora feeling like time itself had stopped. Not even on the coldest winter days had it been  _ this _ quiet.

Althos had returned to the castle very, very late that night, practically frozen through. His lips were purple-blue from cold, his fingers frostbitten all the way to his palms. The castle staff had to more or less carry him to a healing pod. 

Marmora had slept in his own room for the first time in ages. The whole time, he’d only gone in there to change clothes and then leave again right away, to the point where a thin layer of dust covered his bedsheets.

By morning, he hoped, Althos would have finished recovering in the healing pod, physically at least.

So now he went to the medical bay, to be there when Althos awoke. 

The doors opened, and Althos was in the center of the room, getting checked by the castle staff for any remnants of frostbite. His eyes were still dull, Marmora could tell that much. When he saw Marmora, he paled, looking away. 

The staff member, seeming to sense the mood, fled, leaving Marmora and Althos alone in the medical bay.

Marmora reached out to Althos, but as he did so, Althos flinched away, still not meeting his gaze. A jolt of pain stabbed through Marmora’s chest. He pulled his hand back, feeling as if Althos was all the way across the galaxy. He wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t look at him. 

And how could he? Of all of the people on Altea, Althos had the greatest reason to hate the Galra right now. And Marmora  _ was _ Galra. It didn’t matter what side he was on, that was the truth-- something he could never avoid. 

“I’m sorry,” Marmora whispered, turning to go. Althos didn’t stop him.

 

Marmora, Rollier, and Darvax stood at attention in the Castle’s throne room, facing King Alfor.

“There is no time to waste,” he said, his voice as strong as ever, even if Marmora knew he, too, was in mourning. King Alfor was the leader of his people. If no one else could be strong, then he would be. “Right now, you three are all we have of Voltron. The Galra Empire cannot be allowed to take any more planets. But first, you must liberate those they have already taken. We must not let his display weaken our resolve.”

The three of them nodded, and Marmora clenched his fist tightly, then let it relax. “Yes, King Alfor.”

They were briefed, allowed to head to their Lions. Marmora was in charge. The  _ leader _ . He’d never been a leader. He’d always been Zarkon’s “right arm”. 

No one wondered why Althos wasn’t coming. They all knew why.

The King had cleared them to use some of Altea’s military to take back the most recently Galra-occupied planet. Because they had so little time to become entrenched, their defenses would be light. Or at least, that was the hope.

“This would be approximately ten point seven three times easier if we could form Voltron!” Rollier shouted, taking out a Galra fighter with his Lion’s energy beam. 

“I  _ know _ ,” Marmora hissed, blasting out another jet of flame. Down below, Darvax was using his Lion’s huge armor-plated sides to protect a settlement of the native people. They were deeply embroiled in battle, Altean and Galra fighters clashing around them in a massive dogfight.

Marmora hit the comm link on his Lion, reaching out to the Galra battleships. “This is Marmora of the Red Lion. I want to talk to the general in command of this fleet.”

“Access granted,” an authoritative female voice growled. “You are fighting against your own people.”

Marmora recognized the voice, vaguely. It was Servir, his mother’s rival from her military days. But while Marmora’s mother had retired, Servir had risen through the ranks.

“Servir, listen, this isn’t what we wanted. What was the point of an alliance with the Alteans if we were just going to take planets by force?!”

Servir’s face appeared on his display screen, scowling at him. “We are doing what we must.”

“Is that what Zarkon told you?” Marmora shouted, taking out the commanding ship’s main laser cannon. “That peace can’t work?”

“The Galra are warriors,” she answered. “You were our greatest. Please, Marmora, cease this foolishness. Your betrayal would crush the Galra spirit.”

Marmora paused, realizing that she  _ meant _ what she said. The Galra had treated him like a hero.

“Who’s the traitor, Servir?!” he asked through his teeth, landing the Lion onto where he knew the ship’s bridge would be, so that its eyes peered through the huge plasma windows. “Do you think I want to fight you? I don’t want war with the Alteans. None of us did. Do you really want to sacrifice all of your men in a war Zarkon signed you up for?!”

Down below, the Alteans had succeeded in driving away the Galra forces, who were overwhelmed and fleeing the planet. Only Servir’s command ship remained, Marmora’s Lion standing on its helm. 

“Are you making me out to be weak?” she growled, staring unflinchingly up at Red’s eyes, as if challenging him to charge through the plasma windows and tear her apart.

“If you let Zarkon boss you around at his whim, then yeah,” he answered, then delivered his last blow. “I know my mother would rather die than follow a leader that wasn’t acting in the interest of the Galra.”

Servir’s face contorted. “DO NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT WOMAN! I AM TEN TIMES THE GALRA THAT SHE IS!”

She whipped around, barking orders to her men. “Take this blasted rig to the next occupied world! I’ll rip the empire from that damn Zarkon’s hands myself!”

Marmora grinned, directing Red to jump off of the helm.

Just in time. An energy blast strong enough to knock Red sideways arced into the command ship’s windows, turning anyone inside to vapor. Servir was gone.

Marmora regained control of Red. “ZARKON!”

The Black Lion rose next to the planet, as regal and fierce-looking as it always had been. “I will not tolerate resistance,” he announced.

The remaining Galra fighters regrouped around the Black Lion, launching a counteroffensive. The Altean fleet swarmed around them, the Red and Black Lions staring each other down.

Red was furious. Marmora could feel the Lion’s rage pulsing all around him, feeling the energy course into his veins and speed up the rapid pulse of his heart.

“Why?! Why didn’t you just kill me back then?!” Marmora shouted, attempting to blast the Black Lion with Red’s laser.

“You can still be my right arm, Marmora,” Zarkon urged, dodging the blast effortlessly. “I knew you had the potential to be great from the moment I saw you as a child, did I not?”

“Stop it.”

“So many thought you small, weak. But I knew you were strong.”

“Shut up!”

“With Voltron on our side, the Galra can become more powerful than the Alteans. You already know they can’t win.”

“SHUT UP!” Marmora screamed, tackling the Black Lion with Red, as if he could rip Zarkon from its cockpit himself.

“Marmora, pull out!” Rollier urged in his headset. “We’ve accomplished the mission!”

A wormhole appeared in the space nearby, and the Green and Yellow Lions disappeared through it.

Red and Black were still entangled, and Red was taking heavy damage. The Black Lion’s commanding energy was pulling at Red’s consciousness, ordering him to stop resisting. That he was a part of Voltron, inescapable.

Red became immobile in the Black Lion’s grip. Marmora was getting pulled away by Zarkon’s Lion. He’d lost control.

A yellow blur smashed into the Black Lion, breaking its grip. Freed, the Red Lion came to life again, twice as angry.

Darvax had come back through the wormhole to save him. Now the Yellow Lion grabbed Red’s leg in its mouth, pulling Marmora back through the portal.

“Enough.” Darvax said, as they emerged in the sky above Altea, the wormhole closing behind them.

“We’ve received reports of an Altean passenger ship having been attacked,” Coran announced into Marmora’s comm link. He sounded exhausted, the usual pep in his voice completely gone. “Attacked by the Black Lion.” There was another long silence. “There were children aboard. On a school trip. We think it was retaliation for taking the occupied planet back.”

 

Rage was not something that usually characterized Alteans. It was a taboo emotion, to be kept in check, let out only in moderation. It was never released in a flood, pouring out into the city streets, washing away all that remained of peace. 

But that was what was happening now. A beloved Altean noble had perished, and now their children. Cold sorrow had quickly boiled into anger, and the people wanted retribution. 

This rage had found Marmora as soon as he stepped outside the castle gates, intending to visit the park.

“My DAUGHTER was in that ship!” A man cried, tears leaking ceaselessly from his eyes. “The leader of the Galra killed her!”

“You told us the Galra weren’t evil!” a woman shouted. “What race of demons could murder children and not be evil?!”

Marmora stepped back, stunned. “I wasn’t--”

“What have you done to stop them?! Whose side are you on?!”

Marmora was getting pelted by objects. Food, rocks, he didn’t know. One of them caught the side of his jaw, and he tasted blood in his mouth. But he couldn’t fight back against them. It would only confirm their suspicions. “This isn’t about sides… this is…”

“You betrayed us! The Galra betrayed all of us!”

He was getting grabbed, dark hands clamping tight on his arms, dragging him forth into the crowd. He didn’t know what to do. How could he prove to these people that he meant them no harm?

The only thing to do was to not resist. If taking out their rage on him meant that they could move on, then that was what had to be done.

“MARMORA! Let him go!”

The crowd suddenly parted. Marmora felt the hands gripping his arms loosen and then release him, until he was standing free. Althos was there, at the castle entrance, his eyes more intense than the blue sky.

Althos ran through the crowd, standing in front of Marmora. “What are you all  _ doing _ ?!”

“We can’t trust the Galra!” someone shouted. “We don’t know who’s safe!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?!” Althos shouted, glaring his people down. “For three years I’ve slept next to this guy. No armor, no weapons. He could’ve killed me any time, but I knew he wouldn’t. You know why? Because I love him. Call me an idiot as much as you want, even a traitor if that helps you sleep at night. But I trust Marmora. I’m… just as angry as anyone. But you can’t place the blame on him just because he chose to stay. We’re  _ better _ than that, you guys.”

He grabbed Marmora’s hand, pulling him back inside the safety of the castle. Once inside, he turned to him, looking all over him for damage. “Are you okay?! Why’d you go out into the city, you idiot?!”

Marmora didn’t answer right away. “Why are you here?” Marmora finally asked.

“Why do you think?!” Althos answered, pulling debris from Marmora’s clothes.

“I thought… you hated me more than anyone.”

Althos paused, then stepped back, his face turning serious, the blue of his eyes clear as Altea’s water. “Marmora, I just lost my brother. Do you think it would really help… do you think I would recover from one loss by losing you, too? I can’t do that.”

He buried his fingers in Marmora’s hair, kissing him once, twice, over and over again, ignoring the trickle of blood. It was a relief, as if Marmora had been been suffocating and Althos’ kiss had filled him with oxygen again.

He held on tightly to Althos, his fingers digging into his back, probably scratching at his skin, but not caring. “I’m sorry,” he finally said between gasps for breath.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Althos said, kissing him again. “ _ You _ didn’t kill my brother. I know that. It was just hard… to get past it. It was hard to look you in the eyes, because it would make me think of Zarkon. But… I’m not… I’m not so stupid that I’d let that make me hate you. We have to fight a war, you know? I hate that it has to happen. I don’t want it. But I’m not going to fight anything if it means that I have to start hating you.”

Marmora hugged him tighter, breathing him in. "I hate it when you say something cool."

"Yeah, yeah. I love you, too."


	16. A Breath of Relief

“ _That’s it, right?” Lance asked. “You miss them, and that’s why it hurts so much?”_

They did not deserve such a tragic ending.

_Lance jumped, looking frantically around the room for who had spoken before looking back at Blue. “Was that you?!”_

I am a sentient being, you know _, she replied, her voice echoing through his mind, sounding a bit indignant._ Our bond was simply not strong enough for you to understand me.

_Lance relaxed a bit, although still somewhat weirded out by Blue’s speech. “So we bonded when you flooded me with images of Althos and Marmora?”_

_She leaned toward him, several hundred tons of metal lion crouching so that her face was closer to his eye level, her tail twitching out behind her._ You and Keith are very similar to the two of them. More than you know.

_“Do you mean me and Keith as like… individual people, or like ‘me and Keith’ in the same way as ‘Althos and Marmora’ because that’s a really weird thing I don’t wanna think about.”_

Oh? How did the two of you meet? _She asked, laying down and setting her chin on her front paws._

 _Lance thought about it. How_ did _he first meet Keith?_

 _“Oh yeah! So he didn’t show up at our first day of class, but then when I went to lunch, and I was gonna save a table for me and Hunk, he was sitting in my spot! Even though I sat there_ all _orientation_.”

Oh, how dare he, _Blue purred, sounding quite amused._

_“Yes! How dare he! So then, when we found out our training assignments... HEY! You’re avoiding the question! This isn’t about me and Keith; it’s about Marmora! Why did Alfor want Allura to forget about him?”_

Because he died protecting her _, she answered, as if it was the simplest answer in the universe, and yet the saddest one._

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

No one tackled him when he opened the door to his parents’ house, announcing his own arrival. Instead, he saw his little brother, Alvier, peeking out at him from behind a pillar. He’d grown so much in three years. He’d probably get even taller than Althos if he kept going at that rate.

“Alvier, it’s me!” Althos urged, not sure why his brother was hiding from him.

“Is Marmora with you?” Alvier asked, still behind the pillar.

Althos’ heart sank. “You aren’t afraid of Marmora, too, are you, Alvier?” he asked, approaching his hiding spot.

Alvier shook his head. “No! Marmora’s the coolest! But he is kinda scary right now.”

Althos raised an eyebrow, crouching down to his brother’s eye level. “So you aren’t afraid, but he’s scary? I don’t think those two things go together.”

Alvier ducked out from behind the pillar, burying his face in Althos’ shirt. “Mother says it’s the Galra’s fault that Alzen isn’t coming home,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloth. “And my teacher said that they hurt some of the kids from my school, too. So we have to be extra-careful from now on.” He was crying, saltwater staining Althos’ clothes. “But Marmora wouldn’t hurt Alzen, right? He only beats up bad guys.”

Althos swallowed hard, feeling his own tears start to well up in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. Me and him both only beat up the bad guys.” He crushed his brother in his arms, holding tight to him. “We’re gonna beat them all up with our Lions, and we’re gonna make it safe for you to go on school trips again. Okay? Me and him both. So you don’t need to be scared of Marmora.”

Alvier pulled away, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Mhm. I’m gonna keep learning how to use a sword, okay? So when I’m older, I can help beat up bad guys, too.”

Althos smiled, nodding. “Sounds good, little man.”

 

He couldn’t spend too much time at home, but he felt better having seen his family with his own eyes, to remind him that at least they were still there. In mourning, but still there, his mother as critical and patronizing as ever, his father as supporting, and his sister as clever. There was no understating the grief they were in, but it was enough just to reassure himself that they were alive. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste time with mourning. He had a job to do.

Once back at the castle, he was given good news for the first time in what felt like forever.

“We learned from some of the Galra we caught on yesterday’s mission,” Coran announced, “that there’s some strong support for Marmora still remaining on the Galra homeworld!”

“Wait, really?” Marmora asked, standing up out of his chair. “How?”

Coran wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. “Your speech to The Galra general, Servir, struck a chord in some of the soldiers. You might have some skill as a diplomat after all, Marmora!”

Marmora glared at him, and Coran cleared his throat, continuing on. “Moving on! So there aren’t too many civilians among the Galra, but those there are don’t seem to really agree with what Zarkon is doing. So, good news: most of these civilians are on the Galra homeworld. Bad news: most of them are either retired soldiers or kids.”

“So what’s your point, Coran?” Althos asked, getting a bit impatient.

“Hang on, I’m getting there!” He flicked on a display, depicting a huge Galra battleship. “More good news is this beauty. Its commander, Korow, is on our side! He’s willing to help us start a resistance effort if we can keep away the rest of the Galra military long enough for him to get his ship off the ground.”

Althos was amazed. “So what are we waiting for?! Let’s go start a revolution!”

“Wait, wait,” Rollier interrupted, staring intently at the battleship. “There are a known forty-thousand battleships of that same size and class within the Galra military. Even if none of them are protecting the homeworld at this time, it would take them only two to five hours to return to their homeworld even from the most distant star, even without a teleduv. Can we take over the Galra homeworld with just one Galra battleship in that short a time?”

“We can do it,” Marmora declared, stepping forward. “We have to. At this point, if we keep fighting Zarkon from the outside, he’s just going to retaliate by killing more innocent people. If we can take away popular support, right at the source, then all we’d have to deal with is Zarkon himself. And, no offense to any of you, but the Galra civilians are already much better prepared for war than Alteans.”

Althos turned to King Alfor and Allura. “We’re ready to fight. All you have to do is make the call.”

Alfor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Alright. We’ll need to plan this very, very carefully. Marmora, this is your home world, so you will take charge again.”

Nodding, Marmora turned again to the display. “The best place to start is gonna be the slums. That’s where the upper levels of the Galra military have the least support.”

More debating followed, and Althos bit his lip, glancing at Allura. No one had even mentioned that it was her birthday in two days. Normally, the whole castle would have celebrated it, but it was completely overshadowed by the war.

“Um, you guys can keep strategizing,” Althos said, starting toward the door. “I’m gonna be right back, okay?”

“What’s wrong, Althos?” Coran asked. “Do you want to duck out of the mission?”

“No! No no no, I’m really just gonna be _right_ back, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but rushed out of the room, much to everyone’s confusion.

 

When he came back, the debate over strategy had become more heated. Rollier was pointing out a numbers disadvantage. Marmora was saying that a few skilled Galra could easily take down an army of sentry robots. Allura was leaning morosely against the wall, looking frustrated.

Since he had more or less run all the way back to the control room, Althos was a bit out of breath when he went up to Allura, holding out a small basket. “Here. I don’t know if I’m gonna be here for your birthday, so I got these for you.”

Allura’s eyes lit up, and she gingerly took the basket from him. “I’d thought you forgot.”

Althos ran his hands through his hair. “I actually got these a few weeks ago. It’s been a little tough taking care of them in the meantime. I kinda… forgot... the last few days, so they’re probably a little mad at me.”

She frowned, opening the top of the basket. “Taking care of them? Althos, what do you me-- OH!”

As soon as the lid was open, a little pink mouse scampered up her arm, sitting on her shoulder and squeaking angrily at Althos.

Two more joined it, but the last one, a large green one, just sat up sleepily in the basket.

“I found them in Blue’s cockpit,” he explained. “They must have hidden in there when I was visiting some people out in the countryside. But I figured that you’d be a better person to take care of them than I would… so, um… happy 16th year, Cousin.”

Allura smiled down at the green mouse, then hugged Althos, gingerly so as to not bother the mice on her shoulder. “Thank you, Althos.”

She let go, giggling as one of the mice tickled her cheek with its whiskers.

That out of the way, Althos took a deep breath and turned back to the king and the rest of the Voltron crew. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

 

~~~~~

*Marmora’s POV*

 

The plan actually wasn’t that complicated. They would take one of the Galra fighters acquired from the battle on the liberated planet, and then dock in Korow’s battleship. From there, the team would split up. Darvax and Rollier would help secure the battleship from any military interference. Meanwhile, he and Althos would head down to the slums and try to rile up the people. If they got enough support, they could take over some more of the battleships orbiting or docked on the planet.

There was one major problem with the plan, though: they wouldn’t have their Lions until the second half of the plan.

“There’s _no way_ I can sneak you past the orbital fleet,” Marmora argued to Red, who seemed upset at seeing him climb inside the Galra fighter.

 _I can’t forgive Zarkon for using the Black Lion like that,_ Red growled. _I take away anything I can._

Marmora shook his head. “We can’t call for you until we have significant support on the planet’s surface. So just… wait here.”

Not waiting for a response, Marmora ducked inside the fighter’s cockpit, settling himself down, the other Paladins crowding close to him. The mission was about to begin.

 

The first phase went surprisingly smoothly. They went right through the orbital fleet, not even questioned. They were cleared for landing in Korow’s battleship, and the split into teams was remarkably easy. Almost too easy.

Althos tugged at the collar of the black Galra flightsuit, grimacing. “Why is this thing so _tight_?! It’s worse than our Paladin armor!” he complained.

“Shhhhh!” Marmora urged, ducking around a corner to avoid a Galra patrol. “Do you want to blow the mission, idiot?!”

“Oh, sorry.”

Althos had used his Altean chameleon powers to turn his skin purple, which Marmora had hoped would be attractive, but really wasn’t. That wasn’t important, though. Wearing the Galra armor and helmet, you couldn’t even tell that Althos was Altean.

“Where are we going?” Althos asked, walking directly out into the street. A patrol saw him, but didn’t even give him a second glance. Their disguises were really working. Marmora allowed himself to relax, trying to remember what it was like to be an obedient Galra soldier.

“We’re supposed to patrol the slums, you moron. It’s _that_ way.” He said it as gruffly as he could, hoping that his voice wasn’t also recognizable.

“O-oh, right.” Althos waited to follow Marmora.

They arrived at Marmora’s parents’ house, and Althos waited at the entrance.

Marmora rolled his eyes. “There’s no security, Althos. The only protection people in this part of the planet have is themselves. Which is usually enough.”

Althos swallowed. “I just don’t want to make a bad impression on your parents.”

“Just come on!” Marmora hissed, grabbing Althos by the back of his collar and pulling him forward. “Mother? Father?” he whispered, staying on his guard. For all he knew, his parents had already been taken out as potential dissidents.

A hand clamped over his mouth, and he reacted instantly, grabbing the arm and twisting, tucking his hips under his attacker and rolling, sending them to the ground with a crash.

He had his blade half-unsheathed when he realized that his attacker was his father. “Don’t _do_ that!” he demanded, letting go of the sword’s hilt.

He turned and saw that his mother had a knife to Althos’ throat. She’d moved completely silently, not even giving them any time to react.

“Mother, it’s me!” Marmora said, pulling his helmet off. “And that’s Althos. He’s just camouflaged to look like a Galra soldier.”

His mother’s eyes widened, and she pulled the knife away from Althos’ throat. “Oh, _this_ is Althos?” She sheathed the blade, nodding politely. “I apologize. I have been on edge ever since the occupations. I am Norei, Marmora’s mother. Thank you for being the blade at my son’s side.”

Althos blinked, rubbing his neck where the knife’s edge had been. “Um, I’m not his blade… he has like, two swords…”

Marmora rolled his eyes, whispering to Althos, “That’s how the Galra say ‘married.’ Even though we’re _not_ ,” he added pointedly, to his mother.

“It matters not,” Marmora’s father answered, getting off the floor. “You have been together long enough, and fought enough battles together, to be each other’s blades. But that is not what you are here for, yes?”

Marmora nodded. “Mother, Father, I need you to help me start a rebellion.”


	17. Homeworld

_The next morning, Lance did his best to describe to the rest of the team what Blue had told him. Not the part about Keith, though. That one was probably better left unsaid._

_“So when Coran was trying to fly the Castle to Arus, a whole fleet of Galra showed up, right, Coran?”_

_Coran tapped his fingers against his control panel thoughtfully. “Yes, I do recall that.”_

_“And the other Lions all left, but Marmora, in the Red Lion, stayed behind without the rest knowing. So he took on the fleet all by himself, just buying time for you to escape, because he felt like it was the last thing he could do to make up for what the Galra had done to Altea, and he was the only one left who could take on Zarkon.”_

_“But he died,” Keith finished bluntly. “He failed completely.”_

_Lance shook his head. “Yeah, so he_ died _. But he kept Allura safe, didn’t he? And that’s why King Alfor wanted her to forget. A sacrifice like that is gonna be pretty memorable, right? Would you really be geared up to fight the Galra right after one just died for you?”_

_“That’s it?” Allura asked, seeming to be unsatisfied._

_“Well, and Blue says it’s because the whole story of Althos and Marmora is so sad that it may have been kindness on Alfor’s part to allow you to believe Marmora never existed. But I think she’s a little biased. Not that I blame her.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Althos suddenly had a great deal of respect for Marmora’s parents. Of course, having a knife to his throat was a pretty quick way to earn his respect, but it was more than that. He’d been really scared that actually starting a rebellion was going to be a pipe dream, but once Norei went out into the community and started talking to her neighbors, exactly _no one_ turned her down. Marmora’s father wasn’t doing too badly either, but quiznak, Marmora’s _mother_. He could see where Marmora got his unrealistic awesomeness from.

He also hadn’t realized _just how unpopular_ Zarkon was on the homeworld. The Galra radio chatter had made it out to seem like everyone was behind the war effort, but from what he could see, that couldn’t be further from the truth. As talk about the rebellion spread, more and more empty husks of robot sentries were piling up at the dead ends of alleyways, where people had dumped them in order to prevent Zarkon from finding out too quickly.

The Galra people were _angry._ Furious, even. It showed itself in a different way than it had on Altea, though. While the Alteans’ rage had boiled out onto the streets, steamed with screams of grief and shouts of betrayal, the Galra seethed with it. They were quiet, methodical. They passed out weapons without a single word, took out passing sentries before they could so much as send a distress signal. If Althos didn’t know the resistance was forming, he wouldn’t have even been able to tell that anything was going on.

“I can’t say I’m not grateful,” Althos tentatively commented to Norei after she returned from her sojourn into the community, “but what makes the Galra on the homeworld oppose Zarkon so much?”

Norei warmed her hands by the fire in what could be called the public square. Night had fallen already, bringing with it a frigid chill that Althos could barely tolerate, even sitting next to a bonfire. She leaned back thoughtfully, stretching her legs.

“We have not come this far as a race simply to return to barbarism,” she said commandingly, and people around the fire nodded in agreement.

“Barbarism?” Althos asked.

“We Galra are soldiers. It is in our nature, our blood,” she explained. “If we must conquer planets, then so be it. But we do not murder children, and we above all else do _not_ betray our close friends. It is barbaric, and it is not our way. It may not seem so to you now, but I promise you that the Galra took the alliance with the Alteans very seriously. Our most valued ideal is _loyalty_. Zarkon has twisted this into ‘obedience’. And he will crush anyone who does not follow. His heart has grown weak, and we Galra do not follow a weak leader.”

Althos gulped, scooting closer to the fire. “That makes sense, I guess…”

A Galra elder sitting to his left patted his knee. “And we are deeply sorry about your brother, Duke Althos. We would have protected him if we could.”

Althos closed his eyes, allowing himself to think about Alzen’s last transmission for the first time in days. How beat up he had looked, how afraid. But…

“ _There’s a Galra family against what Zarkon is doing… they’re sheltering me_ ,” he’d said.

Shaking his head, Althos stared into the fire, answering, “No. You guys _did_ protect him. That’s… worth something.”

Norei looked at him severely out of the corner of her eye. “You are soft-hearted, Althos of Altea.”

Althos jumped, backing away from her, watching her suspiciously. “T-that’s a bad thing here, right? You’re not gonna try to kill me for being weak, are you?!”

They all stared at him, and Althos kept his hand near his bayard, trying to think of a way out of the situation if they were to all attack him.

And then Norei started laughing. Once she did, so did everyone else, laughing warmly, as if the heat of the fire came from inside of them rather than from the fire burning at the center. Norei patted him on the back, still chuckling.

“You are not Galra, Althos. We would not expect you to be strong in the same way we must be.”

Althos sat back down, knowing that he was probably blushing dark purple the same way Marmora often did. “S-sorry.”

Norei laughed again. “I meant it only as an observation. That softness makes you suitable for my son. He was always so confrontational, which I suppose I encouraged. It made him strong, but also lonely. I believe you have made him even stronger. He has something to fight for besides survival now. He has a _blade_. That is more important than you know.”

Althos looked across the fire, to where Mamora was showing a group of Galra teenagers how to take down an opponent much bigger than them, demonstrating his point by knocking his father to the ground several times and with several different strategies. “I don’t think I really did anything.”

Norei smirked. “Perhaps not. But as long as you maintain strength _here_ ,” she said, giving him a punch in the chest that she probably considered to be gentle, but still knocked the air out of Althos’ lungs, “then we will still think you strong. That is your responsibility in the coming days.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Silently, stealthily, the resistance swept the homeworld. He had expected it to take weeks, but it had taken barely more than a day. The citizens were ready, and as far as he could tell, the military was unaware. It was time to act.

Back on Altea, he and Rollier had agreed on a very simple signal to show that the rebellion was ready to begin: he would release some of the Galra’s most monstrous “pets” into the military’s main compound. Such a thing would create enough chaos to get Rollier’s attention, without necessarily indicating that it was the resistance that did so.

Marmora patted the fur of an especially large yupper, frowning at its owner. “Are you alright doing this? He could die.”

The Galra man raised an eyebrow. “Our yuppers will do their duty just as we do. If he perishes, then it will be an honorable death. Has your time among the Alteans made you soft?”

Marmora quickly stepped away. “If I am soft, then what is the man who requires my help in order to rebel?” he challenged.

The man laughed. “You are the same, Marmora. That is good.” He patted the yupper’s back one last time, and then nodded to Marmora. “It is time for us to begin. Remember, Marmora: we are all putting our faith in you.”

 

As soon as chaos erupted in the Galra military base, Rollier and Darvax acted. Korow’s battleship rose into the sky, its powerful ion cannons destroying many of the other docked warships before they could even realize what was happening. Any that were not taken out were quickly overrun by the Galra “civilians”, who outnumbered the soldiers a dozen to one. Any of these taken ships quickly joined Korow’s ship, soon forming a small fleet.

Marmora and Althos, in the meantime, were to lead a small elite force and take over the command center. It wasn’t easy, even with the Galra animals creating chaos within the base. Additionally, Rollier had scrambled almost all of the military’s communications, both within the planet and to the larger fleets elsewhere in the universe. On the other hand, the soldiers were starting to recover from the confusion.

Marmora stepped over the lifeless body of the yupper he had seen only earlier that day, and continued toward the Black Lion’s crater, where the most potent Galra weapons were stored. On the way, he’d cut down many a sentry and just as many soldiers, just to press on. Althos had covered him with his bayard’s laser gun, not wasting very many shots.

They entered another firefight, and Marmora dodged blaster shots and sliced with his family blade, focusing as much as he could on the battle.

“So how does the whole ‘blade’ thing work?” Althos asked, even as he shot down a soldier heading to a communications panel. “Is there like a ceremony? How official is it?”

Marmora narrowly avoided a jab to his stomach, quickly dispatching the sword’s wielder despite panting heavily. “Althos, this isn’t really the time for this!”

“Is the term different for men and women? Or are they all just your ‘blade’? Because it’s super cool, Marmora. It’s way cooler than ‘husband’ or ‘wife’. Y’know?”

Marmora tried not to laugh, despite the fight they were in. He turned to cut down another sentry, but Althos had already shut it down with a blast from his bayard. “Yes, it’s gender-neutral,” Marmora sighed, sheathing his Galra sword, turning back to Althos. “But seriously, you need to get your priorities straight.”

“No no, this is very important,” Althos insisted, leaning over and kissing Marmora quickly. “Because I think being your ‘blade’ wouldn’t be so bad.”

Marmora turned deep purple, probably all the way to his toes. “This is not the time!”

“It’s the perfect time!”

“We’ll talk about this later!” Marmora shouted, hurrying toward the crater.

 

Marmora jammed his hand against the main control panel, hitting his comm link to Rollier. “Okay, Rollier, let us in!” he shouted.

“Marmora, your vocal pattern has low consistency and its pitch indicates stress. Are you alright? Have you actually cleared the control room?”

“Yes, it’s clear!” Marmora shouted back, annoyed that his voice had cracked.

“Marmora’s a little flustered because I proposed to him,” Althos remarked from the other side of the room.

“Oh I see.”

“ROLLIER JUST OPEN THE DOOR!” Marmora shouted, embarrassment making his blood beat in his ears.

The door slid open, and Marmora rushed forward, going toward the weapons cache. When he reached it, though, he looked around in confusion. “It’s… empty?”

The only thing in the crater was a huge purple-and-black spire that jutted from the ground like a metal thorn. It looked like nothing Marmora had ever seen, but it gave him a bad feeling.

Althos looked up at the spire. “Is this the thing we’re looking for?” he asked.

“No,” Marmora answered, frowning. “This is where all of the experimental weapons on the homeworld are stored. The plan was to take whatever weapons we could use and destroy the ones we couldn’t, remember? But this… is all that’s left.”

“So… what is it?”

Marmora shook his head. “I don’t know.” He took out one of the Balmera-crystal explosives Darvax had made for him and placed it against the side of the spire. “But we don’t have time to think about it. We just have to keep moving."

Rollier’s voice burst over their comm link. “Are you both finished with your tasks?! The Galra military has gotten past my hack, and are now communicating with Zarkon’s fleet. We only have approximately one hour, forty-eight dobashes, and twenty-six ticks-- make that twenty-five-- until they arrive!”

Marmora grimaced. “We didn’t find any usable weapons, so we’re going to have to make do with what we’ve got. Rollier, Darvax, what’s your status?”

“The Resistance-taken battleships have engaged in combat with the orbital-fleet, currently numbering five to thirteen, which is an improvement from one to twenty. If the math is difficult for you, we have taken down seven Galra battleships, and have acquired seven battleships, but have lost two of them,” Rollier answered. “We have been enjoying the element of surprise, but that will not last us much longer.”

“Confirmed,” Darvax answered. “Element of surprise faded. On planet’s surface, though, we have great success. Very few soldiers remain.”

“That’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak, big guy!” Althos remarked with a grin.

“I am happy,” Darvax answered. “It is good to win again.”

“You bet,” Althos answered, then nudged Marmora. “Come on, let’s go see what we can do to help out the battleships.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

The bad news was that the few soldiers that remained were mostly concentrated right outside the command center, trying to take it back. The good news was that they weren’t going to last that much longer at the rate Marmora’s mother was going.

She was insane. She was facing an entire _battalion_ of sentries, and was slicing them down as if they were a bunch of bugs she needed to swat. Her prosthetic leg didn’t even slow her down as she cut a swath through the enemy line, a wild grin on her face. She was having _fun_.

“Hurry to your Lions, Paladins!” she shouted, even as a laser blast grazed her cheek. “Do not worry about me. If you can bring Voltron to the skirmish, you will end this battle.”

“Oh I’m not worried about you,” Althos answered. “I’m kind of wondering if you plan to leave some scrap metal from these guys.”

Norei grinned. “Hurry and go, foolish Altean.”

He did as told, grabbing Marmora’s arm and running, reaching out for Blue in his mind. But when he did so, he felt alarm.

 _The Black Lion is here!_ She cried. _Althos, you must escape immediately._

“Aw, come on, Blue! We’re winning!”

Rollier came onto the comm link. “Althos, Marmora, we are out of time. We need to get to our Lions _now_. Zarkon is here.”

“Yeah, I got that. Hey, Zarkon, old buddy!” Althos shouted defiantly, knowing that the Galra leader could hear him. “How does it feel to lose something precious to _you_?”

“I have no knowledge of this feeling,” Zarkon replied, his voice barely above a murmur. “I have lost nothing.”

Althos and Marmora paused, and a sinking feeling dropped into Althos’ stomach. Zarkon didn’t sound at all distressed at the rebellion. He wasn’t angry, or disappointed, or frustrated. He was calm. That was the part that was frightening.

“I will not tolerate disloyalty,” he said, and Althos could practically picture him sitting inside the cockpit of the Black Lion, glowering at them from high above the planet. “You have done well to deliver the Lions to me.”

“Wait, what?” Althos asked.

The ground pulsed under their feet, putting both of them off balance. It was energy, spreading through the planet’s crust, generating enough shaking to send nearby buildings crashing down.

“Zarkon, what are you doing?!” Marmora shouted, even as another pulse rippled through the red rock below them. More buildings crashed down, and Althos dodged some of the debris, ducking behind Marmora’s energy shield.

But the black spire was still standing. Even as everything else toppled around it, the spire rose out of the Black Lion’s crater, a needle pointing to the sky. The pulsing was coming _from_ it.

The spire flashed, and a shockwave spread over the planet. Lights flashed out, their energy pulled toward the spire. Althos felt his life force being drained from him, toward the construct.

“W-what… what’s going on?”

In his ear, Zarkon laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle so unlike when he had first met Althos. “Witness our first attempt at drawing quintessence from a planet. It is two victories at once, really. Dispose of the two of you as well as your pathetic insurrection, and claim the rest of the Voltron Lions for myself.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

It was getting hard to breathe, let alone stand. All around him, Galra-- soldier and civilian alike-- were falling, their life energy disappearing from them. He understood now what Zarkon wanted to do: if he drained the quintessence, the Lions would still be intact. But Althos, Marmora, Rollier and Darvax would be dead.

They were lucky-- they hadn’t brought the Lions onto the planet yet. As long as they didn’t fall into Zarkon’s hands… Altea had a chance.

 _Red, don’t you dare come to the planet_ , Marmora urged, half dragging himself toward the spire. _Stay right where you are._

 _I do not have to listen to you,_ the Lion answered in his mind. A red blot appeared on the edge of his vision, swooping toward him.

“Red, NO!”

The Lion was struggling to stay aloft, its eyes quickly dimming. But it opened its jaws, snatching Althos and Marmora off of the ground and into the cockpit. But they were still falling, could still feel their lives slipping away.

Through half-shut eyelids, Marmora saw his mother fall to the ground at a sentry’s blade, which seemed entirely unaffected by the draining of the planet’s life force. His mother, his strong, unfailing and strict mother, too weak to fight a stupid robot. It was a humiliating way to die, for someone so proud. It was as if Zarkon was telling him that anyone who would act against him didn’t even deserve to die with dignity.  

“Red, you idiot,” Marmora coughed, trying to hold the two pieces of his heart together, stumbling to the seat of the cockpit. “Couldn’t you listen to me for _once?_ ”

The ground was rapidly approaching. They were going to fail.

“ _You are our strength, my son”,_ his mother had told him before the rebellion had begun in force, _“and the greatest thing standing in Zarkon’s way. No matter what happens today, you must not let that go.”_

And then they were rising, breaking past the atmosphere. Away from the draining quintessence, a small bit of clarity returned to Marmora’s head, enough for him to process what was going on.

Blue. Blue had saved them.

With enough speed, she had come in just quickly enough to grab the Red Lion in her claws and then fly back out into orbit. She had lost a lot of her own energy in the process, though.

Marmora couldn’t focus. Everything was wrong. Althos wasn’t moving. Red’s controls weren’t responding, and Blue was in no condition to fight.

Below them, a blast rumbled through the Galra homeworld, destroying whatever was left. Red rock erupted into space, raining against the Lions’ metal sides.

His home was gone. His mother, his father, everyone who had tried to help him. They were gone. He had always said that there was nothing on the Galra homeworld. Just stone and red dust. But he’d been wrong. There had been _people_. Thousands, millions of people, swallowed up by a failed experiment to draw quintessence.

Now there really _was_ nothing but stone and red dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to mmmolotov_cocktail, I must say you practically predicted what would happen in this chapter when you said you were listening to Ed's "Supermarket Flowers". I listened to the song, and it is really sad.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry.


	18. Pieces

_Now that the mystery of Marmora was solved, Lance found himself back in front of Blue, not knowing what else to do. It was weird-- you would think that talking to a giant mechanical lion would have been awkward, but it actually felt natural. Besides, “I’m going to go bond with my Lion” was the perfect excuse to get out of helping Coran clean cryopods._

_“I feel kinda weird around Allura now,” he admitted to Blue. “I mean, I know I’m_ not _her cousin, but I think_ she _thinks I kinda am.”_

 _Blue’s tail flicked with amusement._ I think you are looking for romance in the wrong places, _she said._

_“Aw, come on, you’re not going to bring up Keith again, are you?”_

I did not bring him up. You did.

_Lance opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it, stumped. She’d caught him. “T-that doesn’t mean I was thinking about him!”_

You are lying, and both you and I know it.

 _“Okay, fine! So I was thinking about him! This whole Althos-and-Marmora thing is messing with my brain!” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to get the cluttered thoughts out of his mind. “I_ don’t _think about him that way… do I?”_

I could answer that for you, but I think it’s best you do it for yourself _, Blue suggested._ Ignoring it hasn’t gone too well so far, right?

 _“Well… no… but that was_ way _back when we were cadets at the garrison! There’s more important things to be thinking about now!”_

Ah, so you _do_ like him, _Blue confirmed, purring._

_Lance felt heat rise into his face. “Okay, so yeah, maybe I do. That’s why this whole thing is so frustrating!”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

They had left the Lions on a moon orbiting the Galra homeworld so that they’d be within reach once the rebellion started. It had probably saved them from the draining quintessence, but it had left them vulnerable.

Blue and Red had come to their rescue, and had paid for it dearly. Their life forces were weak, barely enough for Marmora to sense. But they were still probably better off than the Green and Yellow Lions were.

As debris from the destroyed planet rained against Red’s armor, Marmora could see the Black Lion come into view, pulling the lifeless husks of the Yellow and Green Lions behind it. Zarkon must have done the same thing to them he’d done to Red the last time they had fought-- used the Black Lion’s dominant power to force the smaller Lions into his control. Without Darvax and Rollier to fight him, he was getting everything he wanted.

Marmora didn’t know what to do, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. Despite his own exhaustion, he clambered out of the pilot’s seat, stumbling over to where Althos lay. He pulled off the Galra helmet, feeling for a pulse.

It was there, but weak.

“Come on, Althos, this isn’t the time for a nap!” he urged, pulling him into a sitting position and shaking him. “If you don’t wake up, we’re going to die.”

Althos didn’t respond. He was caked in the homeworld’s red dust as if it were Altean blood, the purple tint he’d given his skin to fit in among the Galra looking _wrong_ , so wrong when he wasn’t answering.

“Althos, you _have_ to wake up!” Marmora urged, feeling more desperate with every moment. “I can’t do this alone!”

Rollier and Darvax were still on board Korow’s battleship, probably fighting for their lives. The battle raged around the Blue and Red Lions, and Marmora was beginning to panic. The Black Lion was coming. Zarkon was coming, and he was helpless. All he could do was hold on to Althos and watch as Zarkon came to claim the rest of Voltron.

A bright, bright flash of light, and laser fire lanced into the Black Lion’s sides, raining down on it with rhythmic precision.

Marmora slowly looked up, following the line of fire to a blinding white smear in his vision, and then another, and another.

It was… it was the Castle of Lions!

It seemed small compared to the Galra fleet, but it dwarfed the Black Lion, its defense systems raining fire on the Black Lion mercilessly. Behind it soared the Altean fleet, immediately clashing with the Galra starships.

Zarkon cursed, spinning to face the coming threat. “Alfor, you’ve decided to put your cowardice aside and come to fight me yourself?”

“It is a true coward who would rather destroy his own people before he would relinquish power!” Alfor shouted back across the radio, his voice filled with anguish and rage. The castle’s firepower doubled, sending the Green and Yellow Lions spinning away from Zarkon’s.

Marmora’s heart filled with hope. The Castle had come to their rescue. They had a chance!

He shook Althos again, pulling him toward the cockpit. “Althos, we need you! I need you!”

Althos’ eyes slowly came open, and he groaned, pulling himself upright. “Marmora? Man, everything hurts.”

“You’re telling me,” Marmora answered bitterly, desperately trying to keep his mind focused on anything except his grief. “We need to get the Yellow and Green Lions away from Zarkon. Red’s dead weight right now, and Blue’s weak, but she at least has something. You think you can get to her?”

Althos nodded, then struggled to his feet. His legs shook, but he could stand. He took a deep breath, then pulled off the remnants of the Galra armor, leaving only his space suit.

As Althos jammed the helmet back over his face, Marmora scrambled back to the pilot’s seat. They locked eyes, for a moment giving each other a silent prayer that they both get out of this mess as intact as possible… and then Marmora hit the eject button.

Althos was jettisoned out into space from Red’s mouth, just barely avoiding a laser blast. Marmora could see him cling to Red’s hull, climbing as quickly as he could toward where Blue held on with her claws.

Marmora, meanwhile, focused his mind on Red. “Come on, buddy. We have a chance. We can at least get _something_ out of this situation, but you have to come back to life, first.”

Then: a flicker of thought. _I’m not dead, you know_.

Marmora exhaled a laugh. “Then prove it.”

He felt energy drain from himself and into the Red Lion, feeling it come alive around him. Red began to move just as Althos reached his Lion’s mouth, climbing into the cockpit.

“You ready, Althos?” Marmora asked, holding the controls tightly.

“I’m like half in my chair, but sure, let’s go for it!”

Marmora shook his head, launching toward the Green Lion. Zarkon, meanwhile, was preoccupied with the Castle of Lions and its merciless rain of fire. It was almost impossible to believe that it was King Alfor at the helm.

“Marmora, Althos, are you alright?!” Allura shouted through the comm link. She, too, sounded as if she was restraining pure hatred.

“I don’t know if you’d say we’re alright, but we’re alive,” Marmora answered, pushing his Lion forward. “We wouldn’t be if you guys hadn’t come when you did.”

“Don’t thank us yet!” Coran urged. “We need the two of you to get the other Lions _away_ from Zarkon and back to Rollier and Darvax!”

“Already on it!” Althos shouted back, crashing Blue into the Yellow Lion, sending it flying. It was a crude way to move it, but effective.

“NO!” Zarkon screamed, but Marmora and Althos were already taking off with the other two Lions, flying in spirals to make it more difficult to hit them. Combined with the Castle’s attacks, it was difficult for him to go after them.

Red grabbed the Green Lion’s back leg in his mouth, dragging it behind him. It slowed Marmora’s Lion down incredibly, but anything was fine as long as it was _away_ from Zarkon.

“Darvax! Rollier! We’re getting out of here!” Marmora commanded. The Green Lion was recovering from Zarkon’s control, and was feeling more awake than Red was. Marmora let go, allowing it to blast away toward Korow’s battleship.

The Yellow Lion did the same, crashing into the ship’s sides. Marmora didn’t waste any time waiting for the next step. He immediately turned Red around, pushing him back toward the castle as fast as he could. His energy was failing him, though. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue powering the massive Lion with his own life force. If they didn’t get out now, they wouldn’t make it.

He blasted past the Black Lion at a safe distance, calling out to the other Paladins. “Everybody accounted for?!”

“We are approximately four-hundred twenty-five meters behind you!” Rollier answered. “Returning to the Castle of Lions at a speed of…” he continued listing numbers, but Marmora focused elsewhere.

“We’re opening the wormhole!” King Alfor commanded. The Castle spun around, a white hole in space opening in front of it.

Around them, the Altean Fleet was retreating even as the last of the Galra resistance ships were blown apart. As the wormhole closed behind the last Lion, the last thing Marmora saw was Korow’s battleship collapsing against enemy fire, exploding into a fireworks display that would have put any at the Altean festivals to shame.

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

His head was still fuzzy from the experience of almost dying. As Darvax and Rollier explained to Alfor, Allura, and Coran what had happened, he and Marmora just tried their best to stay conscious.

“Even with the most precise calculations, I could not have predicted that Zarkon would do this to his own people,” Rollier was saying. “It is without a doubt that we would have won had it not happened. However, it is unlikely that Zarkon still sees it as a loss. His military is, after all, still at eighty-nine percent strength.”

King Alfor contemplated this, his gaze filled with sorrow as he looked at each Paladin in turn, before his eyes fell on Marmora. He turned, looking out the castle’s window as it emerged from the wormhole, sailing toward Altea’s capital city.

“That is enough for now, Rollier,” he said softly, his voice shaking. “You may report to me later, after you have all rested. Especially you, Marmora. Your exhaustion is of a different sort than any of ours.”

Next to him, Althos saw Marmora nod slowly, then get to his feet. He bowed slightly to King Alfor, his voice distant.

“Yes, sir. I will… return, after I’ve recovered.”

Alfor nodded, still staring out the window.

Seeing it as his signal for dismissal, Marmora exited the control room, and Althos watched him go, disappearing once the doors closed behind him.

Althos took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He turned, seeing his cousin leaning against the control room walls, looking forlornly down at one of the mice Althos had given her, cradling it in her cupped palms.

“I’m sorry… your birthday had to turn out like this,” Althos said, approaching her carefully.

Allura looked up at him, blinking back tears. “I never want my birthday celebrated again. It will be as if we are celebrating this day, and I would never be able to forgive myself for that.” She clenched her fist, and the mouse, startled, ran up her arm. “Promise me that you will never wish me a happy birthday again until this war is over, Althos.”

Althos looked down at his feet, then nodded. “It’s a promise, Princess.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

He should have gone straight to his room, but his head felt clouded by rage. Now that the battle was over, and he didn’t feel like he needed to stay in control, for everyone else’s sake, it was burning him alive from the inside, this anger. He saw his mother falling to the ground, over and over in his mind, her humiliating death, the life draining from her, the sentry plunging a blade into her back. She should not have died. She should not have died like _that_.

His anger brought him to the training deck, the only place he could be allowed to let it out without harming anyone.

“Begin maximum training level,” he called out to the room, unsheathing his sword.

“Warning, maximum training level is recommended only for elite squadrons. Are you sure you wish to continue?”

“Just do it!” Marmora shouted to the room.

The gladiator appeared, its lifeless robotic face striking him as so similar to a Galra sentry. He screamed, charging at it.

The robot was fast, but he was faster. Hit after hit, he sliced and spun, practically not even seeing what he was doing. The robot fell, and another replaced it. Sound ripped out of his throat as he fought, everything turning to white around him, no longer seeing, just fighting, as if it was the only thing he could do anymore. The world was a blinding white blur, without detail, without clarity. And yet his arms kept moving, his blade kept clanging against metal.

And then a voice, so soft, barely enough to be heard over the sound of Marmora’s sword:

“End training sequence.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Different people grieve differently. After Alzen’s death, Althos had been catatonic, barely moving, barely feeling _anything_. By contrast, Marmora seemed to be feeling everything all at once. He was ripping apart the training room when Althos found him, his family blade flashing under the lights as he lay waste to everything around him.

“End training sequence,” Althos instructed the room, his voice barely a whisper.

Marmora hadn’t seen him, responding to his voice entirely on instinct, his sword swinging toward Althos’ throat.

He stopped it just short, so that Althos could feel the cold metal of the blade against the skin of his neck.

Marmora seemed to slowly come to his senses, realizing that he had almost killed Althos. He pulled the blade away from Althos’ neck and then let it clatter to the floor as he looked around him in horror.

There were deep gashes in the walls where Marmora had swung wildly with his sword. Various containers of training equipment were completely destroyed, and there were at least half a dozen training sentries lying in piles around him.

Marmora looked back up at Althos, his expression one of absolute anguish, as if his planet’s destruction was still playing itself over and over in his head. “I could have killed you, idiot,” he said, even though his voice cracked.

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

Marmora’s knees buckled, and Althos caught him, letting his claws dig into the flesh of his arm.

“It’s gone,” Marmora said, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead against Althos’ chest.

“I know.”

“My family’s gone.”

“I know.”

Althos had never known Marmora to cry, and he wasn’t about to now. He wasn’t sure if Galra even _could_ cry. But if they could, Althos was sure it would be something like this. Just holding tight to Marmora, not once seeing his face and never trying to, just wrapping his arms around his back and clutching him tight to his chest, as a simple way of telling Marmora that even if it felt like he was falling apart from the inside, Althos was there to hold him together.


	19. Three Years of War

_Lance had worked incredibly hard to get into the garrison. He’d studied his butt off, trained like a maniac, even though he knew he wasn’t particularly smart or really that athletic. But he’d_ wanted _to get into the garrison, more than anything else. He’d wanted to be just like Takashi Shirogane, to be someone people could look up to-- literally. He wanted to be able to fly, people watching him go from the ground._

_Imagine his surprise when he finally made it, only to be assigned to “cargo pilot” status. That wasn’t glorious at all, and nowhere close to Shiro._

_And then, to make things worse, there was Keith Kogane. He barely even tried at anything, and yet he made Lance look like an idiot, the whole while wearing his stupid grumpy-emo frown. But he was cute, and that was the_ extra _annoying part. He didn’t even know it. He was all tough-guy-bad-attitude, then went and got himself kicked out of the garrison before Lance could even tell him anything. He’d wanted to be a fighter-class pilot, but getting it just because Keith had a “discipline issue” didn’t feel very satisfying._

_It had just made him more frustrated when somehow he and Keith had ended up as partners in Voltron, and he felt like saying anything of the sort would ruin the delicate teamwork they had constructed. Like he would fail Shiro if he did so. And he wasn’t about to fail Shiro._

 

~~~~~

 

*Allura’s POV*

 

Althos had promised her that they wouldn’t celebrate her birthday until the war was over, and he kept his promise. On Altea, festivals were still held for the annual berry harvests, the mystical holidays, if only to keep the people’s spirits up, but never again did the Castle of Lions erupt with celebration when Princess Allura aged another year.

The festivals were different, though, in that Althos never danced in them anymore. In almost all ways, he appeared to return gradually to his normal self, except in that one, which betrayed how he was truly feeling. When she had asked him why, he had simply said that he “didn’t really feel like dancing anymore.”

She would never admit it, but she was disappointed. All of Altea wanted to see their lovable duke dance, grinning confidently and whirling, his white hair flying out behind him, his robes swirling around him in a spiral, as if he was going to pull the whole world into his rhythm. Allura missed that.

Instead, he and Marmora would disappear during festivals-- to where, Allura didn’t know, and had never asked. Probably somewhere quiet, away from the crowds and the fireworks, where they could have the chance to enjoy each other’s company without feeling that they were in the midst of struggling for their lives.

She didn’t blame them. After nearly daily battles, a moment of quiet certainly felt like a blessing, something that should not be wasted. Also, she knew that the fireworks bothered them. She had seen Marmora’s face when they had released fireworks to celebrate a successful mission to free a Galra-occupied planet. Seen the way his eyes had glazed over, his smile turning to a grimace, his breath becoming heavier and faster.

She had asked her father to ban fireworks nearby the castle after that.

Time passed, and the war raged on. The castle’s courtyard and plaza were still damaged from the Castle’s quick departure to save the Paladins from the Galra homeworld, but no one had attempted to repair them. It was a waste of time and resources that could be put into the war effort instead.

Even though Allura had asked everyone to forget her birthday, she continued to use it as a marker of events, holding onto it in order to ground herself in time. Seasons felt artificial, unimportant, in the context of a war that spanned an entire universe. Day and night were irrelevant. But yet her birthday seemed steady to her. It was there, even as everything else changed around her.

 

The day she turned seventeen, the Altean military had successfully protected Planet Olkarion from a Galra invasion. It had not been easy-- the campaign had lasted many weeks-- but ultimately they had won. After so much loss, it had felt well-earned.

She had her suspicions, though, that it had only succeeded because the Black Lion had not been present. Zarkon had been fighting the other Paladins in a very distant star system, the battle so fierce that when it was over, there was very little left of the system at all-- just a dim star and the empty shells of planets. Such was the power of Voltron when it battled against itself.

 _That_ part of the battle, like many of the encounters with Zarkon and the Black Lion that had preceded it, had very nearly been lost. The pull of the head of Voltron had almost cost Rollier his Lion, but Althos had managed to save him, and the four Paladins had escaped back to the castle as soon as they heard that the Galra had been driven away from Olkarion. Rollier had been elated, even hugging her in relief as soon as he’d returned. She had never known him to be a hugger. He hadn’t been, until that moment. Always rattling off facts, his face scrunched up with focus. She had never seen it completely relaxed, but she was sure that anyone would have the same reaction to the situation given the circumstances.

She knew that Rollier truly pitied Marmora the loss of his planet. He had done everything he could to comfort the Red Paladin, offering him all of the advanced technology he could design, even suggesting that Marmora lose himself in nuffleberry juice (which Marmora had politely refused, thank goodness), but all of his sympathy didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want his planet to face the same fate that Marmora’s had.

Fortunately, it seemed like whatever experiment the Galra had done to their homeworld to result in its destruction had not had the result they’d desired, since no matter how intense the battles got, or even if the Alteans were able to win-- either protecting a planet or freeing one the Galra had already taken-- they had never again attempted the mass draining of quintessence. Even without it, though, the Galra fleets were enough trouble on their own. Each battle cost more and more Altean lives, while no matter how many Galra ships they destroyed, there were always more to take their places.

In the days following the battle on Olkarion, Allura’s cousin, Althos’ sister Alana, came to the castle and asked King Alfor if she could be allowed to take her place as a scholar and diplomat among the Olkari, as was her duty as a noble. She was still so young--only thirteen years old-- and yet she carried so much weight on her shoulders, and with so much dignity. But that had been the usual age for Altean nobles to begin pursuing diplomacy. It had always been young, but it had never felt dangerous. Youth had been a gift, not a curse. Althos had been even younger when he’d gone on his first peace envoy, but that had been when it was safe to travel back and forth through space. That was no longer the case.

As Allura stood next to her father’s side during Alana’s audience with him, she couldn’t help but marvel at the girl’s courage. Her brother had been the first casualty of the war, doing the same thing she had professed herself to desire, and yet it had not damaged her resolve one bit. If anything, it had strengthened it.

Allura frowned, gazing at her cousin. Alana’s white hair had grown so long, even longer than Allura’s. It hung in a thick, flat curtain all the way to her knees, making her appear older than she was, reflecting the maturity Allura was sure she had felt necessary to achieve. In many ways, she looked the most like her eldest brother, with his cocky grin and warm eyes.

King Alfor had very definitely not wanted to allow her to go, but how could he turn down such determination? Allura had even said to her father that she was quite sure Alana would go to the Olkari with or without his permission, and so he had reluctantly agreed, allowing yet another family member into the danger of mystery. He could only hope that Planet Olkarion would remain safe.

 

On Allura’s eighteenth birthday, the Galra attacked and conquered a very large Altean mining colony, easily dispatching the fleet that had been defending it so quickly that it had hadn’t even had the chance to send a distress signal to Altea. Coran had only discovered it when doing a routine checkup with the various colonies, and had discovered their communications destroyed. A drone had been sent to investigate, and it had found the Galra fleet, already getting to work on intensifying the mining process.

They made no attempt to reacquire it. They were already using as many resources and soldiers as they could just trying to protect the planets that housed life.

King Alfor had merely frowned, turning away from the drone’s projection, and ordered a strengthening of defenses around the remaining mining colonies.

With each passing year, her father’s face filled with more and more sorrow. Allura did not remember him appearing so old, but he had so quickly grown haggard, the circles under his eyes deepening from night after night without sleep, more and more lines creasing his forehead when he frowned.

Allura could still remember when her father had been jovial, dancing with her at every Drellmar festival, allowing her to make him a flower crown of sweet juniberries, even though the flowers’ sweet nectar would run into his hair and stain it pink and turn it sticky. She remembered when the only wrinkles on his face had been the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. That seemed as if it had been the distant past, but it hadn’t.

So much could change in just a few years’ time.

 

When her nineteenth birthday came, the Voltron Paladins were struggling against Zarkon’s Black Lion once again, very nearly losing Darvax’s Lion. It was curious, though-- ever since their first confrontation, neither Blue nor Red had been affected by the pull, and every time had been able to save Rollier and Darvax before they could lose control.

They were able to return, having heavily damaged the Black Lion’s red wings. It could hardly be considered a victory, but it wasn’t a loss, either. They had successfully evacuated a colony and escorted it through the wormhole, and back to Altea.

The war had begun to drag on for far too long, however. More and more planets were losing faith in Altea’s ability to protect them, let alone Voltron. The alliance was beginning to fall apart, and Altea was bone-weary. The festivals had stopped altogether, harvests were late, and everyone was simply wishing for the war to be over.

At this point, many had already forgotten what life was like before the war. Some even decried the Galra as inherently evil. Suspicion of Marmora was rampant, despite Althos’ best efforts to curb it. Even Altea itself was beginning to no longer believe that Voltron could save them.

And how could it? Voltron was incomplete, missing its single most important piece. It was a miracle the team still held together at all, without a leader. She was sure that it was her father’s constant presence that aided the group’s cohesiveness, although the team’s nominal “leader” changed with every mission, depending on who her father deemed to be the most confident considering the situation. Most often, it was Marmora, but there were many times when his impulsiveness made him a bad choice for a leader.

Additionally, her father was relying on her more and more to guide missions while he attempted to keep the Altean military from falling into disarray. On one hand, it was gratifying to know that her father felt that he could count on her. On the other, Allura wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he felt that he had to.

Perhaps it was just that this war had dragged on for far too long, and her father knew that Altea would lose if something didn’t change.

She did wonder, though… of all of the many planets that the Galra had attacked, that Zarkon had used the Black Lion to invade… why had he never tried to attack Altea? What was stopping him from taking down his opponent at its source?

Was it her father?

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

A mouse squeaked at Althos’ feet, and he looked down to where it sat next to his shoe. He put his hand down, letting it crawl into his palm, and then narrowing his eyes at it. “So I guess you’ve finally forgiven me for forgetting to feed you way back then, huh?” he asked it, bringing it up to his face. “Took you long enough.”

It didn’t answer, obviously, but squeaked at him and ran up his arm, hiding in his hair.

Althos tried to see it, even pulling his hair out of the way, but the mouse was hiding in the very hollow of his neck, where it was practically invisible.

He sighed, impatiently gathering his hair in his hands and sitting back against the wall. He was still tired from the fight, like always. That was one thing that healing pods couldn’t fix: exhaustion. A pod could patch up your wounds from near-death, but it couldn’t give your energy back to you. The only things that could do that were sleep and food.

Althos had found both to be in relatively short supply lately. The Paladins were almost always out on the battlefield nowadays, with the Altean fleets spread so thin that they could barely fight a single battle without calling for help from Voltron, especially whenever Zarkon showed up in the Black Lion. Food, too, was limited. Well, the castle had an abundance of emergency green goo made of some sort of space voodoo Althos never wanted an explanation for, but _real_ food was evading them. With more and more colonies taken by the Galra, and more and more Altean civilians going into the military, crops were going barren and there weren’t too many people hunting for game.

Lots of people said that he should eat, that his health was more important than anyone else’s, but he just couldn’t take food away from any children. They made him think of Alvier, back when he was little. He wasn’t, anymore. Little, that is. He’d kept his promise to train with the sword just like Marmora, and was already on his way to become a soldier, ready to “beat up the bad guys.” Although he now _hated_ it when Althos used that particular terminology.

Althos brushed his hair back, then grimaced at the motion. It annoyed him, for some reason. Like it was just too much energy to take care of. He used to take such care of his hair-- brushing it several times a day, washing it with both shampoo and conditioner, both of them the same scent, and making sure it dried straight… but he just didn’t care that much anymore. It was a distraction, and it needed to go.

 

When he walked into the control room after the King had summoned the Paladins for a meeting, everyone let out an audible gasp.

“Althos, your _hair_ ,” Allura breathed, her eyes tracing where it was, and where it used to be.

Marmora, too, seemed a bit put out, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked at Althos. He reached up, running his fingers through what remained of Althos’ white locks. “It doesn’t even touch your shoulders anymore.”

Althos raised an eyebrow. “You telling me I look ugly?”

“No,” Marmora answered, copying his expression. “It doesn’t look bad on you. I’m just surprised.”

Across the room, King Alfor cleared his throat. Althos and Marmora jumped to attention, remembering where they were.

“I have called you all here for a very important mission,” he began, looking at them each in turn. “One that is our only hope to turn the tide of this war.”

He waved a hand, and a projection of the currently broken-winged Black Lion appeared on the screen. “With battle after battle, the Black Lion has created the most chaos. It is bad enough that we do not have all of Voltron, but it is made worse that you four cannot even control your Lions when he is nearby. We have lost many battles this way.”

“Exactly fifty-seven,” Rollier supplied.

“Yes, thank you Rollier. There have been exactly fifty-seven battles that we would have won, if only the Black Lion had been absent.”

Next to Althos, Marmora crossed his arms. “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

Allura nodded, gesturing to the hologram of the Black Lion. “We are going to take back the Black Lion from Zarkon, and in doing so, turn the tide of this war back in our favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, realistically, on Earth very few mice live more than a year or so. But we're going to assume that Altean mice live a lot longer.


	20. The Black Lion

_In response to Lance’s complaint, Blue had told him that keeping his feelings to himself was stupid, and that Althos had been much braver. Not about to lose to a guy who’d been dead for ten thousand years, Lance had marched back down to the training room, where Keith was almost always taking his frustration out on the castle equipment._

_Keith looked up when Lance walked in, calling off the gladiator. “Lance? What’re you doing in here?”_

_Lance made a face at him, a hand on his hip. “What, you have a monopoly on the training deck or something?”_

_“No, you just never train in here.”_

_“At least not when anyone’s looking!” Lance shot back._

_“Is there something embarrassing about practicing around others?” Keith asked, sounding genuinely confused._

_“Hey, it’s a lot harder to show off when you’re stationary._ You’re _the only one who gets to be all cool, swinging around a sword and acting like you’re a knight or something.”_

_Keith looked down at his bayard, then back at Lance. “If you want to fight with a sword, no one’s stopping you.” He pulled a training sword out of one of the wall racks, and tossed it to Lance. “I could use a different training partner anyway.”_

_Lance caught the training sword and backed up, suddenly regretting his decision to confront Keith. “W-wait, I never said anything about fighting you!”_

_“Why, you scared?”_

_“Not a chance!”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

“If taking the Black Lion was an option, why haven’t we done so before?” Marmora asked. Coran, Alfor, and Allura had explained the basic plan to him, but some things still seemed a bit too unclear.

Alfor frowned. “We had not been able to damage it before now. Although not incapacitated, the broken wings will likely cause the Black Lion a great deal of pain that will transmit to Zarkon if he tries to pilot it. If we are to strike, this is the only time.”

Althos tapped his fingers against his arm, seeming incredibly doubtful. “So you’re telling us that we have to somehow get onboard the Galra’s main command center, steal the Black Lion, and then bring it back here? Even if we _can_ pull it off, what’s to stop it from just flying right back to Zarkon?”

“I will seal it,” King Alfor stated. “My life force is tied to the Lions’. I believe it is our final trump card against Zarkon, and why he has never attempted to attack Altea with the Black Lion. If he brings it to me, I may be able to shut it down. Zarkon fears this above all else. We know now that his greatest weakness is his attachment to power. And the Black Lion is the greatest power he holds. He will not risk its loss.”

“But sir,” Rollier argued, “if you seal the Black Lion inside the castle, then we still can’t form Voltron.”

“I know. But I see no other choice.”

The room fell silent. Marmora looked around at the other Paladins, who all seemed lost in thought, likely imagining the scenario of what would happen to the universe if they didn’t stop Zarkon. He stepped forward. “The odds don’t matter at this point. If there’s even a slight chance of success--”

“Twenty-four point two six percent,” Rollier supplied.

“Right. If there’s a twenty four percent chance of success, then I’m willing to do it. It’s better than zero, right?”

“There’s one small hitch, though,” Coran interrupted. “It’ll only be you and Althos going on this mission.”

Marmora blinked. “We haven’t been able to defeat Zarkon with all four of us-- how are we going to take him on with just two Lions?”

“That’s just it,” Coran argued. “Of all of the times you’ve fought Zarkon, we’ve observed only one time that the Red or Blue Lions actually fell to his control, as opposed to however many times the Yellow and Green Lions did.”

“Fifteen for Yellow, and nine for Green, I am ashamed to say,” Rollier interjected, gritting his teeth.

“So what?” Marmora asked, crossing his arms.

Allura stepped forward, her posture straight, serious, determined. “We believe that your bond allows the two of you to resist Zarkon. Only once has the Red Lion been taken by Zarkon, and that was when the Blue Lion was not present. It has not happened since. Based on this, the most reasonable course of action is to send the two who can resist him. Darvax and Rollier will stay here, to protect Altea.”

An alarm erupted into the Castle’s speakers, and Coran ran to check his control panel. “Your Highness, it’s from Planet Olkarion! The Galra are attacking!”

King Alfor winced. “A change in plans, then.” He gathered himself, facing the Paladins. “Darvax, Rollier, you will go to defend Olkarion. Marmora, Althos…”

Marmora nodded, already tensing. “We’re going to go take the Black Lion from Zarkon.”

“I am putting my utmost faith in the two of you.”

He and Althos didn’t wait for the command to depart. Every second they waited was a second wasted.

Marmora quickly changed into his Paladin armor, testing out the appearance of his bayard, and then hesitated. Leaning against his bed was his mother’s sword, where he had set it after the failed insurrection. He hadn’t touched it since his homeworld’s destruction, fighting with his bayard instead.

 _“_ _When you fight as a Paladin of Voltron, you must fight with the Paladin’s bayard,_ ” his mother had said. “ _But if there is ever a time when you must fight as a Galra, fight with this.”_

He looked down at the hilt, where his family’s crest glowed a dim violet. If ever he was to fight as a Galra, this was the time. When he would go to face Zarkon himself, probably the most dangerous mission he had yet faced.

Outside the room, Althos called out to him. “Marmora, what’s taking so long? You coming?”

Marmora quickly slid the sword and sheath over his back, hurrying after Althos.

 

Just break into the Galra main base and take a giant mechanical lion away from the enemy of the known universe who also used to be their leader and probably knew them inside out. No problem, right?

Yeah, sure.

Since they had to bring their Lions in order to transport Zarkon’s, sneaking in wasn’t exactly an option. The only way forward was pretty much straight through the front door. On the bright side, it didn’t look like the Galra were particularly prepared for a pair of Voltron Lions to come blasting through their docking bay doors, either.

Soldiers scattered as debris from the destroyed doors collapsed into the docking bay. Althos didn’t waste any time, immediately using Blue’s freeze ray to trap the docked enemy fighters inside blocks of ice, and then her sonic cannon to put out any soldiers that might remain. That was one weakness of the Galra’s extra-sensitive hearing.

“Are you sure this is where the Black Lion’s going to be?!” Althos shouted to Marmora, not seeing any sign of Zarkon or his Lion.

“Where else can they put it?! It would have to be somewhere easy to exit in and out, and Zarkon would want it close to him at all times. So this way!” Marmora shouted, sending his Lion bounding off through the docking bay.

But just as they reached another set of bay doors, a lone soldier stood in their way. Marmora pulled up short, his Lion’s claws screeching against the metal floor.

“Garen?!”

Marmora’s commanding officer stood straight, unafraid, unfazed by the two Lions of Voltron that loomed before him. “The Black Lion is this way. It is what you are here for, is it not?”

Marmora blinked. “Why are you helping us?”

“I had great respect for your mother, Marmora. And I was proud to be surpassed by one of my pupils when we fought so long ago. We thought expanding the Galra Empire would bring stability. We learned too late that a tyrant doesn’t seek stability. Only power.” He pressed his fist to his heart, staring up at Marmora’s Lion. “Zarkon turned the Galra into mindless soldiers, but on our homeworld, you gave our people something to fight for. My family… my daughter, died on the homeworld that day. It may have been lost, but that struggle was more valuable than you may realize. I will not let our people’s sacrifice go to waste. If you can obtain the Black Lion, then I will aid your escape. But you must hurry.”

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

They blasted through the second pair of bay doors, and there was the Lion, its damaged wing still sparking with tainted quintessence.

Marmora jumped out of his Lion, heading toward Black’s mouth.

“Marmora, are you crazy?! Put your helmet on!” Althos urged.

The “plan”, as vague as it had been, had been for Marmora to try to pilot the Black Lion out of there, carrying Red in its claws. It would be the fastest way to accomplish the mission with as little resistance as possible, but there were obviously a lot of things that could go wrong. If he couldn’t manage to pilot the Black Lion, then they would have to drag it away with Blue and Red, slowing them down dramatically. But there were dozens of other things that could go wrong, too.

Such as Zarkon showing up in front of Marmora.

He seemed to practically vaporize out of nowhere. Even in his Lion, Althos hadn’t been able to tell he was there. But now he was standing between Marmora and the Black Lion, bayard in hand.

He was so much _bigger_ than he used to be. Zarkon had always been a big guy, but his enormous armor made him almost as big as Darvax, and absolutely dwarfing Marmora. His bayard, too, barely even resembled the one he had first been given as a Paladin of Voltron anymore.

 _Its shape will match your heart_ , Allura had told all of them when she had given them their bayards. Is that what had happened to Zarkon’s? Because he had become so twisted, had his bayard become warped, too?

Far below him, he saw Marmora draw his Galra sword and charge, his blade clashing against Zarkon’s bayard. Inside his Lion, Althos felt torn. He knew that one blast from Blue’s cannon would end the battle. He could take out Zarkon right now, but…

He could hit Marmora. No matter how good his aim was, Blue’s laser cannon was just too powerful to pinpoint Zarkon while he was fighting Marmora.

In the grand scheme of things, one person’s life wasn’t worth the safety of the entire universe. Althos knew that. But he also knew that there was no way he could release Blue’s cannon if it could erase Marmora, too. Zarkon probably also knew it. That was why he didn’t feel threatened, fighting Marmora hand-to-hand in defense of the Black Lion, even with Blue and Althos right there. He knew Althos wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Althos grit his teeth, closing his eyes. Marmora was struggling. Everything, _everything_ relied on them getting the Black Lion away from Zarkon. He couldn’t just sit here and wait.

“MARMORA, COVER YOUR EARS!” he shouted into his comm link.

Althos released Blue’s sonic cannon, releasing a blast that shook the entire sub bay, causing both Marmora and Zarkon to recoil. But it gave him the time he needed to eject himself from Blue’s cockpit, joining the battle. He couldn’t back Marmora up with Blue, but that didn’t mean he had to fight Zarkon on his own.

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Something in him knew that he would have to fight Zarkon when he came here. Maybe Zarkon had known it, too, and that was why he was already there when Marmora and Althos managed to locate the Black Lion. But it was why Marmora didn’t even slow his step when Zarkon appeared, drawing his family sword and charging forward all in one fluid motion.

Zarkon’s huge bayard flashed to life, clashing with Marmora’s luxite blade, the sound of collision echoing through the huge space.

“Do you really think you can take the Black Lion from me?” Zarkon jided, pushing back against Marmora’s sword. “You are not worthy to be the head of Voltron.”

“Neither are you,” Marmora shot back, his voice strained from the effort he was putting into holding back Zarkon’s bayard. In a battle of pure strength, Marmora definitely didn’t stand a chance against Zarkon. He would be beaten into a pulp if this clash took too long. The only way to defeat him was with speed.

Zarkon’s face darkened. “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he snarled, pulling his blade away and attempting another jab, which Marmora narrowly dodged. “For three and a half years you have been nothing but a thorn in my side, Marmora, son of Norei. Tell me, how did it feel to watch the life drain out of her?”

“SHUT UP!” Marmora screamed, slashing vertically with his sword, missing completely. Zarkon may have been huge, but he was by no means slow, and an even better fighter than Garen was.

Then suddenly: “MARMORA, COVER YOUR EARS!”

He had barely any time to acknowledge Althos’ demand, dropping into a crouch and holding his sword’s hilt between his knees, crushing his ears against his head just as Blue’s sonic blast ripped through the docking bay.

He used Zarkon’s moment of recoil to grab his sword and again slash at him, this time making contact. His sword went clean through Zarkon’s helmet, sinking through the flesh of Zarkon’s face, creating a huge gash across his eye.

Zarkon screamed in pain, holding his injured eye closed, lashing out with his blade. Marmora tried to dodge, but the very tip of the blade caught his side, opening a hole in both the Paladin armor and the skin in his side. It wasn’t deep, but it was still bleeding, and painful. But Marmora had had worse, and enough adrenaline was running through him to allow him to ignore the pain.

Blue laser fire blasted Zarkon as Althos ran behind Marmora, his usual grin completely gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. “Hurry up and go, Marmora!” he shouted.

No time to waste. Marmora ran to the Black Lion, glad that its cockpit was open. Behind him, Althos stayed at a safe distance from Zarkon’s blade, but he wasn’t doing well. Zarkon’s bayard could extend, making nothing a “safe distance.” He heard Althos cry out in pain, but he couldn’t turn back, even as much as he wanted to.

He jumped into the Black Lion’s pilot seat, reaching out with his mind and holding tight to the controls. “Answer me, Black. I’m not your Paladin, but you know as well as I do that this is _not_ what you were made for.”

The Black Lion gave no answer. He could feel it resisting his control, but also could feel its pain, pulsing from the injured wing. And then the Lion’s pain was slamming into his mind, overwhelming all else. Below him, Althos was holding a gaping wound in his shoulder with one hand, shooting at Zarkon with the other. There was no time.

Marmora closed his eyes, begging Black to listen to him. But it refused. Its Paladin was Zarkon. There was still a chance that Zarkon could return to goodness. He had only wanted the best for the Galra people.

“Was destroying our homeworld the best for our people?!” Marmora shouted to the Lion, feeling his grief bleed into the Lion’s consciousness. He had pushed it back for so long, but now it was erupting in a stream flowing into the Black Lion’s sentient mind.

 _I cannot betray my Paladin_ , Black answered finally.

Marmora screamed, giving up. Black was not going to listen to him. He and Althos were both losing blood.

 _Red, I’m coming back. You’d better be ready,_ he commanded his Lion, already running out of the cockpit. He slashed with his sword as he ran by Zarkon, taking him by enough surprise while he was distracted with Althos’ gunfire to cut at his leg, making him stumble. He grabbed Althos’ arm at a dead sprint, yanking him back toward the Lions.

“Get back to Blue, Althos!” he shouted, pushing him back toward Blue. He couldn’t afford to wait to see if he was going to make it. He ran straight for Red, leaping as high as he could into the air. Red was ready, leaping forward and snatching him up, darkness closing around him as Red’s mouth snapped shut.

And then he was in the cockpit. His hands shook as he grabbed the controls, pushing Red forward. Time slowed down. He slammed his Lion into Black’s sides with enough force to push it out toward the bay doors, the artificial gravity somehow suddenly gone, allowing it to spin forward into the main bay.

 _Garen_ , he thought, even as he aimed Red’s tail cannon at Zarkon, keeping him away from the Black Lion as Althos, in Blue, took hold of its front leg  and blasted through the doors, but everything felt like it was slow motion. The Black Lion was so much bigger than Blue, and it was awakening as Zarkon called for it, fighting in Blue’s grip. She was struggling to hold on, her jaws clamping down tight enough to dig divots into the black coloring of Zarkon’s Lion.

No time. Marmora pushed Red’s controls forward, using the smaller Lion’s mouth to grab hold of Black’s injured wing. The Black Lion roared in pain, but he could not afford to feel sympathy toward it.

“King Alfor, we have the Lion! Open the wormhole NOW!” he shouted into his comm link, hoping the time delay wouldn’t hold them back. He and Althos flew their Lions as fast as they could, rushing through the main bay doors. Behind them, he heard Zarkon scream with rage, even as the ship erupted in chaos. The energy shields were gone, probably the last piece of help Garen was able to give them.

A wormhole erupted into the space directly in front of Blue and Red, and Althos and Marmora pushed their Lions through it, dragging the Black Lion into it despite its struggle to return to its Paladin. Finally, it closed behind them, and they were on their way to return to Altea.

They’d done it. They were injured, and in pain, but they'd done it.

But something felt wrong. A deep, stabbing pain in Marmora’s stomach, entirely different from the pain of the gash in his side, told him so, although he could not identify what it was.

When they exited the wormhole into the Altean atmosphere, he found out.

Below him, and all around the Castle of Lions, Altea was burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that some of what Garen said is an exact match to Ulaz' explanation of the Blade of Marmora in VLD season 2. I thought it fit here really well.
> 
> Also, this chapter was seriously intense to write. I even started sweating while I wrote it, lol


	21. Altea

_Lance was surprised he was able to block Keith at all, to be honest. Each blow jarred his hands, though, and pushed him back with each step. Finally he found himself backed up against the wall, and with nowhere for him to go, Keith was able to knock his sword out of his hand, and then press his own blade against Lance’s neck, scowling._

_“Are you even trying?”_

_“Kind of, but not really,” Lance admitted, then added, raising an eyebrow and grinning, “But I also don’t mind getting pinned against the wall, to be honest.”_

_Keith immediately pulled away, stepping back and dropping his sword. His face was BRIGHT red, and growing darker by the second._

_“I-you-how can you-- don’t SAY stuff like that!”_

_Lance rubbed his neck, both confused and amused by Keith’s embarrassment. “Stuff like what?”_

_“I am NOT going to repeat that,” Keith grumbled, stomping away toward the training room doors. But Lance could see by the tinge in his ears that he was still bright red. Lance followed him, trying to keep the smile off his face as he followed, trying his best to act innocent. He knew exactly what he’d said._

_“Why? Does it bother you? Should I do it more often?” he called out as he reached the hallway, just as Pidge went  walking by, holding her computer under her arm as she went._

_“YES!” Keith answered, then froze, spun around, his face even darker red than before, and added, “I mean-- t-to the first one. Not the second one!”_

_Pidge looked back and forth at the two of them, then up at Lance. “Uh… what’s wrong with Keith?”_

_“I dunno,” Lance answered with a shrug. “I made a joke about getting pinned to the wall and his face got all red like that.”_

_Pidge covered her mouth and glanced back and forth between them, looking as if she was trying not to say something. But then finally, she just couldn’t hold it in anymore, and blurt out, “Of course he did! He’s had a crush on you since you were back at the garrison!”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

His shoulder was bleeding pretty badly, but he almost forgot about it entirely when they reached Altea.

Galra starships blocked out the sky, they were so numerous. The construct rings around the planet were in ruins, their remnants crumbling down onto the planet like a rain of hellfire worse than any rock-rain Altea had ever experienced. The capital city was ablaze, and people ran frantically through the streets, away from whole squads of Galra soldiers and sentries.

Althos’ heart hammered. What had their mission to retrieve the Black Lion even been _for?!_

“My family is down there,” he whispered, barely able to comprehend the words even as he said them. “I have to… I have to go help them.”

“Althos, we have to deliver the Black Lion to the castle!” Marmora shouted, his voice snapping Althos back to reality.

He dodged a falling meteor, pulling the Black Lion along with him. “I can’t just leave them there!” he pleaded.

“I know,” Marmora answered, his voice softening. “But I can’t carry the Black Lion without you. If we let go, and it returns to Zarkon, everyone who died while we were retrieving it will have died for nothing.”

Marmora’s words were harsh, but true. They stabbed at his heart, and he wanted so much to abandon the Black Lion and fly to the city. But King Alfor was waiting for him.

He took a deep breath, pushing on toward the castle. The hexagonal energy barrier was raised, and laser fire erupted from it in all directions, blasting at passing fighters, the starships, or invading squadrons. It was very clearly overwhelmed, though.

“Coran, _what happened_?!” Althos demanded as they flew toward the castle at top speed, doing their best to avoid any laser fire, which was difficult, since it wasn’t easy to maneuver when they were dragging the Black Lion with them.

Coran’s voice popped in over his comm link, the background noise filled with explosions. He sounded rushed, blurting out the answer as quickly as possible. “The attack on Olkarion was a clever decoy to spread our defenses thin. With the two of you out to retrieve the Black Lion, and Rollier and Darvax protecting Olkarion, we were practically defenseless. The Altean fleet was overwhelmed in mere minutes. The energy shield generated by the planet’s rings had been holding back the fleet until now, but I’m afraid they’ll launch their full scale attack soon, now that it’s gone!” An explosion rattled the transmission, and when Coran’s voice returned, it sounded strained. “Anyway, King Alfor is waiting for you in the Black Lion’s docking bay! Hurry!”

He cut out, and Althos pushed Blue on, straight toward the castle. Just as they reached it, the energy barrier flickered for just a moment, enough to let them through, before coming back up. Considering the scale of the fire the barrier was enduring, though, it was enough time for a good number of shots to get through, scattering across the Castle’s towers and shaking its foundation.

They practically crash-landed in the docking bay, dropping the Black Lion into a sitting position. As soon as they did, King Alfor stepped forward, holding a tablet controlling the docking bay’s systems. Light shot out of the walls and at the Black Lion, encasing it in an energy barrier-- just in time, since the Black Lion had just tensed in order to spring, trying to escape.

Alfor pressed his hands against the barrier, his eyes closed in concentration. The light intensified, and then died. The Black Lion had gone still, its eyes dimmed.

“It is done,” Alfor affirmed, looking up at where Blue and Red hovered. “The seal will only be broken when all four Lions are present.” He gestured upwards, back to the top of the docking bay. “Hurry and salvage what you can, Paladins.”

Althos didn’t need to be told twice. He spun Blue in the air, out into the gunfire-filled sky. He almost collided with the Green Lion, just appearing inside the Castle’s defenses.

“ALTHOS!” Rollier screeched, dodging nimbly out of the way with his Lion. “Althos I must tell you something.”

“Not the time, man!”

“No, _please_ listen,” Rollier begged, sounding as if he was fighting back tears. “The Galra had only one target on Olkarion. My planet, my people… they are enslaved, but unharmed. There was only one civilian casualty.”

“What, the Olkarion King?” Althos asked, not really caring for the answer. It was awful to think so, especially in front of Rollier, but he honestly didn’t really care that much about Olkarion at the moment.

“No,” Rollier answered, sniffling. “Althos, their target was the Altean ambassador to Olkari. It was your sister… your sister Alana.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

“We reached the planet too late,” Rollier was blurting, the words flooding from him in a torrent. “It was a surprise attack, a team of exactly twenty soldiers to the ambassador’s residence, breaching security in forty-point eight seven seconds. Locating the ambassador within--”

“Rollier, that’s enough,” Marmora murmured softly, cutting the distressed Olkari off. The Blue Lion remained in the air next to Marmora, but inside, Althos was dead silent.

“I was told that she took out twelve soldiers before she was eliminated,” Rollier finished, choking on the words.

Althos coughed a pain-filled laugh. “That’s my sister for you.”

Marmora’s heart stung, as if Althos’ pain was reaching him. “Althos…”

The Blue Lion rose, phasing through the energy barrier, dodging energy blasts. “I don’t have time to grieve, Marmora. I have to find… the rest.”

Marmora didn’t answer, only followed Althos through the Castle’s energy barrier, and into the rain of fire around the capital city.

The once huge manor home of Althos’ family was now a column of flame reaching up toward the darkening sky, smoke clouding the air all around, so thick that Marmora could hardly see through his Lion’s viewing screen.

A blast of ice shot from Althos’ Lion, dissipating the fire in less than a tick. As soon as it was gone, Althos jumped out of Blue’s cockpit, scrambling toward the house. “Mother! Father! Alvier?!” He shouted, holding his bayard in front of him. “Where are you?!”

Chunks of rock and metal from the planet’s rings were still falling all around them, some of them crashing into the ice coating the house, knocking huge crystal stalagmites away from the structure. Some of them fell toward Althos, and Marmora jumped with his Lion, crouching over Althos so that the ice fell against Red’s metal sides.

“Rollier, Darvax, try to find as many civilians as you can and get them to the Castle of Lions!” Marmora ordered. “It’s the safest place for them now.”

“Affirmative,” Rollier responded, and the Green Lion went bounding away across the city. Althos, meanwhile, still searched through the rubble of his family’s house, calling out for them.

“Please tell me they’re not here,” he pleaded, climbing over what had once been the grand stairway. All Marmora could do was watch, protecting him from whatever threats happened to come by. He blasted several passing Galra fighters out of the sky, and stomped a battalion of sentries under Red’s feet. But Althos was still searching.

“I don’t think they’re here, Althos,” Marmora attempted, turning back to him. “We should return to the castle.”

“Althos, Marmora, come in please!” Allura called out over the radio.

“Marmora here. What do you need, Princess?”

“Althos’ mother and younger brother are accounted for in the population that’s escaped inside the castle. We’re not sure about his father.”

“Are you sure?” Althos asked, as if he wanted to sound relieved but didn’t know if he was allowed to.

“Yes. Here, Alvier, your brother needs to hear your voice,” she said.

“Althos! Marmora!”

The image appeared on Marmora’s viewing screen, a transmission from the castle. It was Alvier alright. He was filthy, the soot coating his face streaked from where tears had run from his eyes, but most definitely Althos’ youngest brother. He’d grown a lot since Marmora had first met him. He was thirteen now, and much less of a beanpole than his oldest brother. Actually, he looked more like Alzen than anyone else.

Althos rushed back to his cockpit, his own face also appearing on Marmora’s screen. “Alvier?! Are you sure you’re okay?!”

Alvier nodded. “Father went out with the soldiers. He told Mother and I to take shelter with our Uncle. But Alana…”

“I know,” Althos said, and his voice made it hard for Marmora to breathe, it sounded so filled with grief. “But we still have to do our best.”

Through the screen, Alvier seemed to transform. The grief melted from his face. His back straightened, and his shoulders came square to the camera. The actual movement had been slight, but suddenly Alvier looked so much older than he was. “You’re right, Brother. We don’t have time to grieve. We have to save Altea, first. Here, I’m giving the screen back to Allura.”

“I’ve been piloting the castle while my father sealed the Black Lion,” she said as soon as she reappeared in the transmission. “But Father’s calling you back to the castle. We’re going to call back all of the fleets we’ve sent to protect the other worlds, to save Altea. In the meantime, we need you all to return to the Castle. We’ve evacuated as many civilians as we can, and you’ve all sustained injuries. It’s time to regroup.”

“Understood, Princess,” Marmora answered. “We’re coming back.”

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

They hadn’t even made it to the control room when King Alfor confronted them, Coran just behind him. He was the most distressed, most distraught that Althos had ever seen him. He didn’t stand as straight as he used to, as if gravity’s pull was driving him downward. King of Altea… it was a heavy burden, it was true.

In the sky all around the castle, the remains of the Altean military clashed with the Galra fleet, causing a constant flash of lightning and fire in the night sky, but also making a bubble of calm around the castle. Despite the chaos that Althos knew was raging all around them, everything was quiet.

A castle staff member treated his and Marmora’s wounds while King Alfor spoke, giving Althos a drink of nuffleberry juice to dull the pain. Not that he felt any of it anyway.

“Over these seven years you have all fought incredibly bravely,” Alfor stated, staring them down gravely. “As Paladins of Voltron. Both when you fought alongside Zarkon, and when you have fought against him.” He cast his gaze downwards, his voice catching. “I, and all of Altea, could not be more proud of all of you. Even now, you are the greatest hope for peace in the universe.”

Althos met Marmora’s gaze, trying to communicate with him through his expression. Both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing: that King Alfor was going to ask them to do something incredibly difficult.

Clenching his fist, Althos’ uncle continued, “that peace is no longer something that Altea can guarantee. We have fought with everything we have for its sake, sometimes succeeding, but only fleetingly. Each battle seemed to inevitably lead us here.”

He looked up, sorrow filling his gaze. “The main Galra fleet is on its way. Once it arrives, even our entire military will not be able to hold it back. Altea’s numbers are already decimated. Zarkon will finish us off. Of course, I do not intend to go out without a fight. But I also cannot allow Voltron to fall into Zarkon’s hands. And that is why I am commanding you to disperse.”

Choking on his nuffleberry juice, Althos coughed, “Uncle, you aren’t serious?!”

Alfor gazed at him sadly. “I am. I have already arranged my memories to be stored in the Castle archives, to guide my daughter when she awakes, whenever the time again comes for Voltron to fight. Before the Galra can destroy the last of our defenses, Coran will pilot this castle to a distant, peaceful planet, to hide from the Galra Empire as long as possible. Before Zarkon arrives, you four will escort him to safety past the fleet already here. As soon as he is through, you will all disperse, to hide your Lions in planets so distant that Zarkon will never find them. This is my final mission for the four of you.”

“You mean you’re going to stay on Altea and fight, while we run away?!” Althos asked his uncle incredulously. “After all of the fighting… all of the struggles, the people we’ve lost…”

Alfor placed a hand on Althos’ shoulder, eyes focused intensely on Althos. “My nephew… I am only doing what I must. For the sake of peoples who have never set foot in the soil of other worlds,” he said, with a pointed glance to Marmora, which Althos didn’t understand. “Even if Altea dies, I wish to be able to say that even one of us was able to live a long, happy life, together with the one we love most.” He took Marmora’s hand, placing it over Althos’. “This is the last I will leave you with. You have some time to say your goodbyes. Coran will alert you when it is time to go.”

And then King Alfor let go, heading off down the hall, toward the control room. After a moment’s hesitation, Darvax and Rollier followed, leaving Althos and Marmora alone together, in the last moment of quiet they may ever be able to have on Altea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as a brief idea for a Klance fanfiction, and has somehow evolved into an attempt to fill all of the plot holes left by the series' main plot so far. Of which there are a lot, and I did my best to fill. The only one I don't address is Haggar, which is a whole other can of worms I don't really think this story can cover, since we don't even have many hints about her origins other than that she's Altean.
> 
> But we are getting SO CLOSE to the end, you guys. And then, hopefully, my inner muse will release her choke hold on my mind and allow me to sleep at night without thinking of this story.


	22. The Promise

_“PIDGE! YOU SWORE!” Keith yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her._

_She cringed, looking up at Lance. “Sorry, I didn’t actually know Keith back at the garrison, but I found out totally on accident when we were in each other’s heads during that one bonding exercise Coran had us do. He kept my secret, so I figured I’d keep his. But this was just too good to keep quiet anymore,” she explained, jabbing Keith with her bayard, causing him to jolt away from her. She slipped away, grinning a bit malevolently._

_“Wait, are you serious?” Lance asked, completely stunned._

_Pidge didn’t answer, just winked and continued down the hallway, holding her laptop with one hand and waving back at him with the other. “Work it out, you two! I know you can do it!”_

_She disappeared around the corner, leaving the two of them alone._

_Lance felt a bit overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. He blinked at Keith, whose face was only just starting to return to its normal color. “So… this isn’t… just because of the whole Althos-and-Marmora thing, then?”_

_Keith glared up at him. “No, idiot. Didn’t you hear Pidge? From way back at the garrison.”_

_“R-really?” Lance asked, feeling like he was the one turning red now. “But why--?”_

_“Your lunch table,” Keith grumbled, not meeting his gaze. “Your stupid sideways smile.”_

_“But why didn’t you_ say _anything?!” Lance asked, spreading his arms wide._

_“Because I thought you hated me, duh. You said so yourself.”_

_“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, here. You didn’t think I was_ serious _, did you?”_

 _Keith shrugged, and Lance put his hands on his hips, leaning toward him. “Okay, you should know by now that number one, I am_ never _serious except when I find someone attractive. And number two, you’re an idiot. A cute idiot, but still an idiot.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

He looked down at where his hand was draped over Althos’, then back up at his boyfriend’s face. Or was it fiance, now that Althos had proposed to him? Even though he’d never actually given him an answer…

“You never said how someone becomes a Galra’s ‘blade’," Althos said, as if reading Marmora’s mind. “You’ve avoided the question for three whole years.”

Marmora twisted his fingers into Althos’, taking a deep breath. “It’s complicated, since we’re not both Galra. Do you even have a family crest?”

Althos thought about it. “Uhhh… I dunno. I’d have to ask my mother.”

He kept his hand in Marmora’s, but turned to go down the hallway. Before taking another step, though, he stopped, not looking at Marmora. “You must think… that it’s horrible of me… to think of this right after my sister died. But I guess I just… need something to get my mind off of it. Something happy. I think it’s what she’d want, anyway.”

Marmora squeezed Althos’ palm, trying to feel confident. “I think it’s what she’d want, too.”

 

They found Althos’ mother in the midst of the other Altean refugees in the castle, many of them doing their best to tend to her. She was draped in blankets, and several children were trying to give her food, but she wasn’t eating. Her eyes were glazed over, entirely unseeing, and she hardly moved at all, unless one of the other refugees jostled her. Even then, she would just return to her former position, staring into the near distance, completely unresponsive.

Alvier stood at her side, trying to keep the Altean children from disturbing her too much. Or the _other_ Altean children, Marmora had to remind himself. He couldn’t keep forgetting that Alvier was still a child, too.

As Marmora and Althos pushed through the crowd to let them through, the people parted, whispering as he passed. They were still angry at him, still distrustful, he could tell. But there was precious little he could do about it now. They weren’t attacking him, at the very least.

Alvier looked up when Althos and Marmora approached, his expression softened again now that he was next to his mother. “She’s been like this ever since she found out that Alana was dead. The other refugees are being extremely kind… they recognize her as a noble, and are giving her special treatment, but… she just doesn’t respond to anything.”

Marmora recognized the expression on the old noblewoman’s face. It had been the one Althos had worn shortly after Alzen’s death. The bright blue eyes flattened to gray, the usual smile erased into a gaping, unspeaking mouth.

Marmora knelt down, taking her hand. “Madame… I don’t know if you can hear me… but… I…” he’d never been particularly good with words, and this was no exception. “Every time I would visit your home, you would always ask me when I was going to marry your son. The truth is, I didn’t know if I had the right to. Especially now. But he asked me if he could be my Blade. It’s a Galra term. Do you know what it means?”

Slowly, Althos’ mother turned her gaze to him, although still not seeming to really see him. Very slowly, she nodded.

“So you know? That’s better than your son, I guess.”

She smiled slightly, an almost imperceptible upturn in the corners of her lips.

“But I need to know your family crest. Do you have one?”

She stared off into the distance again, her finger tracing lines on Marmora’s palm. It took him a second to realize that she was drawing something.

“Hey, can I borrow that for a second, kiddo?” Althos asked, turning to one of the children nearby, scratching cartoonish drawings into the castle floor with a bit of charcoal. Without hesitation, the child handed the charcoal to Althos, who then gave it to his mother.

Very slowly, Althos’ mother looked down at Marmora’s hand, her face beginning to scrunch in concentration as she drew. Finally, she finished, taking Marmora’s hand and holding it to Althos’ face. “Bird… and… spear…” she said, struggling to get out the words.

She let go of Marmora’s hand, and he looked at it, trying to understand what she meant.

 _Bird and spear_. He could see it now. The picture was a bird with spread wings, its feet resting on the handle of a long spear, buried into the ground.

When Althos saw it, he seemed to reach a realization. “Oooooohhhh yeah… Mother told me once that I had a special name for our family, because we’re supposed to be the ‘Family of the Spear’. Or was it the lance? Same thing. Anyway, that’s why my name is ‘Althos’. It means ‘Great Spear’. Pretty cool, huh?”

Suddenly, his mother reached up and smacked him upside the head, her expression turning severe. “Not the time,” she chided, seeming to be slowly returning to normalcy. “You should be… marrying… this boy.”

Althos still clutched Marmora’s free hand, and now held it even tighter. “I don’t know if I can, mother. Uncle Alfor told us to go far away from each other.”

She got to her feet, frowning at them. “Then return to each other later. That’s all you have to do.”

Althos was about to say something, but just then King Alfor’s voice erupted over the Castle’s intercom. “Paladins of Voltron, it is time.”

“Time for what?” the citizens around them asked.

But Marmora and Althos knew. While the refugees all stood and listened to King Alfor’s explanation of the situation, they slipped quietly away, whispering their final goodbyes to Althos’ mother and brother.

 

~~~~~

 

*Allura’s POV*

 

Laser fire was beginning to rain down on the castle again, and outside the castle windows the sky was nothing but orange and gray, so swathed in flame was the planet. She, her father, and Coran were the only ones left in the Castle’s bridge, tirelessly working to defend it from the enemy force.

More ships were headed toward the Castle, now that the last of the Altean defenses were eliminated. A screen appeared on the castle’s display, and King Alfor recognized it. “Zarkon.”

“Your fleet has been destroyed, Alfor. I will be there _shortly_ to claim Voltron.”

The transmission dissipated, and the ship directly in front of them fired a laser blast, shaking the castle.

Allura turned to her father, fists clenched. “Father, we must form Voltron and fight before it’s too late!”

King Alfor closed his eyes, sighed, then looked down at her. “It’s already too late. We must send the Lions away. We can’t risk them falling into Zarkon’s hands.”

“We _can’t_ give up hope!” Allura urged, desperation filling her.

“I’m sorry, daughter,” her father said, cradling her cheek in his hand. “If all goes well, I will see you again, soon.” But it was unlikely, Allura knew. Her father planned to take the rest of the people inside the castle and launch a counterattack on the invading forces. It was all they had left.

But then her cheek stung, and darkness closed around her. She was falling unconscious, only able to reach out toward him. How could she be… so helpless?

“Father…”

“I love you.”

It was the last thing he would ever say to her.

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

Marmora and Althos let go of their bayards, allowing the castle drone to carry them, and their Paladin armor, off to a storage unit deep within the castle. This way, they’d be safe for when the next generation of Voltron Paladins came to claim them.

They watched the drone go, silent for a moment, even as the castle shook from heavy enemy fire. “So… that’s that, I guess…” Althos muttered, turning to go. Marmora grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“There’s a planet-- Earth-- that the King showed me once… he said that when things got most chaotic, and when I wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was… I should think about that planet. You… you should go there. I’ll wait until the war quiets down a little, and then I’ll come find you.”

Althos thought about it for a second, then pulled Marmora close to him, squeezing his eyes shut. “I want it in writing.”

Marmora pushed away from him, then reached behind him, to where his Galra sword hung from his back. “Will this work?”

Althos looked down at it, raising an eyebrow. “What am I gonna do with your sword?”

“N-no, I don’t want you to _take_ it!” Marmora stammered, squeezing the sword’s hilt tighter. “You draw your family crest on it. That’s… that’s how you become someone’s ‘Blade’, I’m pretty sure. It’s the best promise I can give you right now.”

Althos felt his mouth hang open for a second, then nodded. He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a small carving laser he’d taken from one of the repairmen. He hadn’t been sure why, but he’d felt like he might need it.

Very carefully, he aimed the laser at the flat of the luxite blade, carving a spiraling version of the “bird and spear” his mother had drawn earlier. It was far from perfect, but about as close as he could get to it under the circumstances. “There.”

Marmora looked down at the blade, and then smiled to himself, sliding it back into its sheath. “It’s… a promise, then.” He looked up at Althos, his yellow eyes burning with determination. “I _will_ see you again. I promise.”

He stretched up, wrapping his arms around Althos’ shoulders and pulling him down to his lips, kissing him gently. It was long, and deep, and Althos wanted to make it last forever. Maybe it had only been a few ticks, but they were precious, invaluable, and he wanted to imprint them into his memory.

He pulled away, breathing deeply. “Until we see each other again,” he affirmed, letting Marmora go, despite how much he wanted to go back.

But there was no time. Althos would go to Earth, and wait. However long it took.

 

Even as they ran to their Lions, the castle was coming to life, blasting past any invading forces. The Galra fleet was pushed back by a rain of laser fire from the castle’s defense system, even as it rose from the Altean ground. Fire still raged outside, but there was nothing Althos could do about it now.

He climbed into Blue’s cockpit, feeling a bit weird doing so without his Paladin armor.

“Coran, you’d better keep my family safe!” he demanded, driving Blue out of her docking bay and into the burning night sky.

“I’m afraid I can’t promise anything,” Coran answered, sounding as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. The castle shot into the sky, literally pushing Galra battleships out of the way with its energy shield as it went by, hurtling toward the only gap in the fleet large enough to create a wormhole. “All of the civilians have left the castle. They said they’d follow King Alfor anywhere, and he’s decided to do the last defense of Altea that he can. They’re all… covering our escape.”

It was true-- from the remains of the city, laser fire blasted outwards, destroying any Galra ships that came close. It allowed the Castle to break past the atmosphere, spiraling toward the the nearest moon, which Althos had once thought had the best view of Altea. Maybe it still did, if you wanted to watch Altea fall to ruins.

“My mother and brother, too?!” Althos asked, about to turn back.

“They wanted to lead the people. They’re nobles, after all. Just as you are.”

Althos fought back tears, pushing forward, shooting down any more ships that tried to converge on the Castle. He couldn’t afford to think. King Alfor had given him one last duty. His mother and brother had wanted to protect a promise they had made to the people, and he wanted to protect the promise he had made to Marmora. He had to keep going.

Behind him, the Galra ships converged on the capital city, their ion cannons blasting down at the planet all at once, filling space with a blinding purple-white light that almost blinded Althos.

The planet erupted with the light, as if it was bubbling through its core. And then the light exploded outwards. Altea crumbled from the inside out, just as the Galra homeworld had. It was almost poetic. Once, Alteans and Galra had been close allies, and now they were enemies. Despite that, their homes still met the same end.

Althos looked back at the destroyed planet, trying not to _feel_.

His family was gone. Marmora and Allura… were the only people he had left now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the part where Allura falls unconscious is carefully copied from the show in order to fit the context.


	23. From Past to Present

_Lance had had to endure a_ lot _of harassment that day, from everyone except Allura, who still seemed too preoccupied with pouring through the Castle’s records in an attempt to recover her true memories._

_Hunk had asked them if this was a Keith-Keith thing, or a Galra-Keith thing, which only seemed to annoy Keith more._

_Pidge would run away as soon as she saw the two of them, ducking behind a corner every time Keith glared at her, and then grin at him from a safe distance._

_Coran had just told them to “be safe and all that,” whatever that meant. From Coran, anything was possible._

_But still, after a few days passed and everyone settled down, it felt nice to just sit next to Keith and blabber on and on about his family back on Earth, his four siblings, and all that he’d figured out about the former Paladins. He was pretty sure Keith wasn’t really listening, as he polished the edge of his Galra blade, but he kept talking anyway._

_But next to him, Keith had fallen silent, and when Lance looked over, he saw that he was asleep. He’d been staying awake late looking for Shiro again, apparently._

_He felt embarrassed to do so, but hey, no one was looking. He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”_

 

~~~~~

 

*Marmora’s POV*

 

Wormholes appeared in the sky all around them, created by the Castle’s teleduv. One of them was just in front of the castle, and the other three in the space around it.

“This is all I can make with King Alfor’s residual energy,” Coran explained, pushing the castle forward. “Althos, you’re the only one who specified a place. Rollier, Darvax, I picked yours out for you. I hope they’re alright.”

“There is no problem,” Rollier answered, blasting at a nearby fighter. Most of the attacking Galra fleet had actually been destroyed by the planet’s ruin, in a moment of poetic justice. But they still had to escape before the main fleet arrived, and they knew it was on its way.

“Only four,” Darvax said, even as he flew his Lion toward one of the wormholes.

“Yes… I’m sorry, Marmora, but you’ll have to find a different way through. Unless you want to accompany me to our destination,” Coran answered, sounding strained. “But the rest of you, hurry!”

Suddenly a horde of ships appeared in Red’s viewscreen, including the main command ship that Marmora and Althos had invaded only earlier that same day. It was hard to convince himself, now, that the mission had not been a failure. But at the very least… at least the Black Lion was now locked away within the Castle, in such a way that not even Zarkon could take it.

The Lions began to fly toward their respective wormholes, not even saying any last goodbyes to each other.

But Marmora stopped in space, watching the trails of green, yellow, and blue light wink out into the darkness of the wormholes. He pulled his family sword out of its sheath, looking down at the glowing rune in its hilt, and then at Althos’ rudimentary carving of his family crest.

Behind him loomed the Castle of Lions, in all its glory. Inside slept Princess Allura, Althos’ cousin and Altea’s last hope. With its defenses all but drained from the struggle to escape Altea, the castle would be destroyed within minutes.

In front of him rose the glint of hundreds of Galra craft, all determined to catch the castle before Coran could evacuate it to a safe location, far from the clutches of Zarkon. If he wasn’t able to, all hope for freedom-- for the life Marmora hadn’t even imagined existed until he met Althos-- was gone.

He was the only one there. The last Galra left on the Altean’s side. His people had turned on their allies, destroyed worlds, all for the sake of Zarkon’s attachment to power, his paranoia of disobedience. But Zarkon was never going to return to goodness, never going to ask forgiveness for what he’d done. Marmora was the only one who could pay for the Galra’s crimes against Altea, against the whole universe. The Paladins of Voltron were gone, to the far reaches of the universe, but he was still there.

He knew what he had to do.

 

~~~~~

 

*Althos’ POV*

 

“I’m staying.”

Marmora’s voice rang through Althos’ earpiece and echoed through his blood, resounding in the hollows of his heart.

“Wait, WHAT?!” he cried out, jerking back on Blue’s controls, urging her to stop. He’d already gone through the wormhole-- the last one Coran had been able to make from King Alfor's residual essence… and it had already closed behind him. Even in Blue, it would take months, even years to return to the ruins of Altea.

“If no one protects the castle, Allura will die.”

“Marmora, don’t be an idiot. Zarkon will _kill_ you. No prison, no hard labor. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the only thing making the Galra doubt him. Once he gets rid of you, he’ll have everything. And I-I’ll have nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Althos. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise.”

There were sounds of combat-- shouting and explosions, the whiz of countless Galra fighters, the thunder that seemed to echo both all around him and inside of him, even though the space around Blue was so eerily silent.

Althos urged Blue to turn around, but she resisted, even though he could hear her pain echoing with his own heart. Maybe she knew her duty, just like Althos did. Althos, who had lived the way he’d wanted his whole life, if only for his ONE exception-- that he would never disobey King Alfor. It was a constant presence, a constant voice, in the back of his mind, reminding him that no matter what, he was a Duke of Altea, and that he fought for justice and peace.

That voice was so small now that he could barely hear it over everything in his soul that was SCREAMING that he had to go back. Had to go help Marmora.

“I’ve taken too much damage!” Marmora was shouting, his voice strained. “My Lion isn’t responding!”

Without even knowing what he was doing, he was urging Blue to go back to the castle.

Coran’s voice echoed through his earpiece. “Althos! Althos do NOT come back, do you understand me? Althos!”

He barely heard him.

_He promised._

“Althos, if you come back, the Galra will have captured TWO Lions of Voltron! By the time you get here I’ll have successfully driven the Castle through the wormhole! You won’t change anything!”

 _He promised me we’d see each other again_.

“We’ve captured the Red Lion!” A triumphant, guttural Galra voice that grated on his eardrums.

The sounds of combat. Energy blades, blasters-- there must have been a whole squad of Galra trying to bring Marmora down. But then there was his scream of pain. The Luxite blade clattering to the ground. There were too many, even for him. Dragging sounds. The clang of a helmet getting tossed aside. Marmora never _did_ like to wear his helmet.

“Emperor Zarkon, what should we do with him?” the same voice asked, even as Marmora attempted to struggle.

“Kill him.”

It was so quiet. So horribly, horrifyingly quiet. All he could hear was his own pulse ringing painfully in his ears. He couldn’t see Marmora, couldn’t hear him. But he could feel him. Maybe it was their connection as fellow Paladins, but Althos could never say for sure. He could feel Marmora’s heartbeat, so quickly, pulsing as if it was in his own chest. Feel it break. Feel it fail. And then he could feel nothing.

It was empty. Space was cold, and it was empty, and he was alone.

“We’ve made it to the new home of the Castle of Lions.” Coran’s voice, although barely a murmur, echoed in his ears like a scream. “I’m truly sorry, Althos. Marmora…”

Althos cut the comm link on his helmet, sliding it off and tossing it aside.

For a long while, Blue hovered in space, comforting him as best as she could with the soft rumble he knew to be a purr.

He clutched the joystick so tightly that the blood vessels in his fingers were threatening to burst. Finally, he whispered, “let’s go to Earth, Blue.”

He didn’t need to do anything. No controls to move, no commands to give-- Blue moved on her own, carrying him through the emptiness and loneliness of space, toward the place he would live out the rest of his life.

 

Every day, Althos would go into the cavern and visit Blue, his only remaining friend from his old life. His parents, his brothers and sister, his uncle, and all of his childhood playmates were all dead. His cousin was asleep and locked away in secret. The love of his life was gone. All of them, gone.

He patted Blue’s paw, then turned to the cave walls. With his carving laser, every day he would cut another picture into the rock. Another adventure he’d gone on with Blue, with the other Paladins of Voltron. He tried not to draw Marmora, because it hurt so much whenever he did, but sometimes he could not help himself. The images were scattered in the harder-to-see places in the cavern, among the large carvings of Blue in all her glory. Althos wasn’t the best artist, but he did what he could.

“Althos, are you coming? The village leader wants to see you!” a woman called from the distant entrance to the tunnel, he voice echoing through the stone until it reached him.

“I’m on my way!” he declared, finishing his last carving and setting his laser back into its holster on his hip. He waved to Blue, making his way out of the tunnel and into the sunshine.

Earth was a pleasant enough place. Humans even looked a lot like Alteans, only they lacked the colored markings on their skins, and their ears were curved rather than pointed and tilted back.

The land he’d hidden Blue wasn’t a particularly rich place-- mainly stone and red dust-- but the people he’d found himself among managed to live well enough. They’d greeted him kindly, wondering at his odd clothes and hair and markings-- but they thought he was wise, and counted him among their elders.

Wise. On Altea, _no one_ thought he was wise. He was just obnoxious, foolish Althos.

He eventually married one of the village women, who he loved and who loved him even though she knew his heart was somewhere out among the stars.

She knew, because she could see him gaze up at them every night, as if lost in their light. They would twinkle in his strange blue eyes, all of the colors of the universe.

Their children, too, all had his blue eyes, even if their white hair darkened to a deep brown. It was a trait that seemed to stay with their family no matter how many generations passed-- Their skin and hair were dark, but their eyes were blue, the blue of Altea.

Many generations in the future, long after Althos passed away, his descendents would migrate, from the place nearby the Cave of the Lion to an island far out to the east, having long forgotten their strange ancestor who fell from the sky and every night, would look up to the stars and whisper out to the cosmos.

“I promise, I’ll see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering about the suddenly EXTRA-fast writing of these chapters, its because I've had the very ending of the story written for quite some time, and just had to tie it together to the last few chapters. I apologize if it's a bit overwhelming for everyone who's been with this story since I first started writing it, but I've been aching to get to this part for ages. I hope you all understand.
> 
> From this point, we only have the epilogue, which I'll post later today. Thank you all for sticking with me. :')


	24. Epilogue

*Red’s POV*

 

Red had taken too much damage while defending the Castle of Lions from Zarkon’s fleet. His energy was dissipated, leaving him immobile, unable to resist as Galra ripped Marmora from his cockpit. He could do nothing but watch as Marmora fought for his life, trying to take Zarkon down with him. The Galra leader still had an ugly slash over his left eye that had not healed since their last encounter. Marmora’s mark would not soon disappear.

But even Marmora could not fight dozens of elite Galra soldiers with only a luxite blade. Red could not count how many times he was struck, and did not want to. It was too many.

“Kill him.”

If he could only do something. If he had enough energy to move, to rescue his beloved Paladin, he would. But there was nothing.

Marmora’s body was taken away, and the huge room surrounding Red emptied of soldiers.

But one remained. The soldier that had helped Marmora and Althos escape with the Black Lion. A man named Garen.

He found Marmora’s sword on the ground, where it had fallen, forgotten, during the battle, and picked it up, holding it to the light. As he hefted it into his palm, the sword shrunk into a dagger, but the image Althos had carved into it remained clear, stark black against the silver-violet of the blade. Garen noticed the carving, running a thumb gently over its surface, smiling sadly.

He looked at the blade for a long moment, and then up at Red, the same expression of regret filling his eyes.  “I am sorry, Marmora. But your Blade lives on. And someday, perhaps, we will be able to aid him in accomplishing your goal.”

Garen tucked the blade into his cloak and then looked up at Red one last time before turning to go, back to his place at Zarkon’s right hand.

 

~~~~~

 

*Blue’s POV*

 

Ten thousand years is a long, lonely time to wait. Blue needed neither water nor food nor even air, but in many ways, she needed her Paladin.

After enough time, Althos stopped coming to visit her. He’d aged and grown weak, and then finally, Blue had felt his life force snuff out. She had mourned him for centuries.

She had felt his pain at the loss of Marmora as if it were her own. She had adored Marmora, nurturing and stimulating their relationship whenever she felt it appropriate. She knew that Althos’ love was not fleeting, like so many people had assumed it to be, knew it long before anyone else had. She had been with them in some of their most intimate moments, watching fondly as they grew ever closer. In many ways, Marmora had become as much a part of her as Althos had been.

But now both of them were gone, despite their promise.

And so, in the dark of a cavern far under Earth’s surface, never encountering even a flicker of light from the world above, she waited. Over the many years she had sensed several life forms nearby, reaching out with her consciousness for their suitability as her Paladin. None had seemed right, and so she had let them pass.

Perhaps she had grown _too_ fond of Althos-- of his charm, his casual air, his honesty, his easy friendliness. Maybe it was why so much time-- and so many humans-- passed by without tempting her to bring them to her side.

But something changed. A collection of humans gathered nearby, some of their recently-developed aircraft flying over the entrance to her dwelling, but never stopping.

For ten thousand years, the space around Earth had been peaceful, with no sign of the turmoil they had fled from. But there was something shifting in the universe-- she could sense it.

It awakened her from her half-slumber enough to reach out to the humans again, finding them to be reeling from some disturbance-- a disaster met by a mission to a distant moon. It was time, then.

Who would be her Paladin? She was so far away from the humans’ base that she could not sense them as individuals. They were a collective to her. Unreadable.

But one approached. As he got closer, she searched his consciousness, without high hopes.

_Marmora?_

Her senses flared to their full capacity, using all of her willpower to bring this Marmora-who-was-not-Marmora closer. Their personalities were the same, their face shape, even the way their hair curled around their neck was the same.

He was not her Paladin. Could not be. But encountering him had revived an old ache she’d thought she’d long put behind her.

 _Come to me_ , she pleaded, hoping he would understand her.

And he did, to some extent, coming further into her caves than anyone had in years, running his hands against the images Althos had carved into the wall, but unable to cross the barrier into her chamber-- he was not her Paladin.

 _Please_ , she urged, every day he visited her, _help me find Althos, Marmora-who-is-not-Marmora_.

Every time he left, she despaired, believing that she had not reached him. Until Earth’s system erupted into chaos again-- a Galra ship. A space-faring human. And then Marmora-who-was-not-Marmora was coming to her again, but he was not alone. There were four with him. All strong-willed, all unique, and--

And one of them was Althos.

Marmora-who-was-not-Marmora had somehow understood her. He was bringing this boy who was her Paladin, without knowing he was doing so.

The five entered, and as Althos-who-was-not-Althos touched the ancient carvings, they came to life, glowing the same blue that Althos’ eyes had been. They had done that before only when Althos or one of his children had touched them. This new child-- and he _was_ a child, the same age Althos had been when he’d first formed Voltron with the Paladins of old-- must have been the descendant of her beloved Paladin. He had the same dark skin, same blue, blue eyes.

For the first time in almost ten thousand years, she sensed the entrance to her chamber opening, and these two reminders of her former life approaching her.

She watched as they walked up to her energy barrier, a strange tension hanging between the two of them.

“Does anyone else get the feeling this is staring at them?” Althos-who-was-not-Althos asked his companions.

They stopped just short of her forcefield, gazing up at her. They were Marmora and Althos, she knew it with all of her soul. After all of this time, the universe had allowed them to keep their promise: they had seen each other again.

It was destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for going through the experience of this story with me. For all of you who have been here from the first chapter, and those who came in halfway, or even only recently, thank you for all of your kudos and comments, or even if all you did was read it. Believe me, I read every comment you guys post right away, and it really helped to push my motivation to finish this story. Even if you said you were crying, it was still encouraging, because I started crying a lot while I was writing this, too. I got really attached to Althos and Marmora, even though I knew what was going to happen to them. So don't feel too bad. I have a lot of teardrops staining my keyboard.
> 
> If any of you want to chat, yell at me, send me headcannons, whatever else, you can come visit my tumblr. My username there is elfenphoenix, same as here. :)
> 
> And again, thank you all so, so much for reading this story.
> 
> Also, I love you guys, but you should probably stop reading stuff tagged as "major character death" during school lol


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